Not a Review

A story related to perfumes but not a review

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“Orchids haven’t started blooming yet…”

I saw my first live orchid when I was about twenty years old. I knew about their existence, read about them in books and maybe even saw them once or twice on TV (not sure about that part though) but they just weren’t present where I grew up.

As I tried to remember from where I knew about orchids, Nero Wolfe mysteries by Rex Stout were the first suspects that came to mind. Those who read the novels know the important part that the orchid greenhouse plays in the stories: the fact that the famous detective was spending in there four hours daily making clients, police and everybody else adjust their schedules around that activity is one of the common elements of most books in the series. I liked these mysteries and read many of them. So it was hard not to get intrigued by the orchids.

Orchids

But no, these books came into my life later and they weren’t my first encounter with the fascinating flowers. I think the first impression – or rather imprint on my psyche – had been left by the film based on Arthur Conan Doyle‘s novel The Hound of the Baskervilles. Do you remember the scene when Miss Stapleton meets Dr. Watson for the first time and, thinking he was Sir Henry Baskerville, tries to warn him?

“Man, man!” she cried. “Can you not tell when a warning is for your own good? Go back to London! Start tonight! Get away from this place at all costs! Hush, my brother is coming! Not a word of what I have said. Would you mind getting that orchid for me among the mare’s-tails yonder? We are very rich in orchids on the moor, though, of course, you are rather late to see the beauties of the place.“

That is the only scene where orchids are mentioned in the book and it’s not too captivating. So why did it have such an effect on me? As I mentioned, it was a film not a book and orchids played a much more prominent role there.

Unlike that character in the book, Sir Henry in this film version was depicted as a slightly goofy and peculiar man. I would go so far as defining him as a comic relief. There is a scene in the movie – a totally original one, there’s nothing even remotely close to it in the book: Sir Henry and Dr. Watson, while waiting in Sir Henry’s room to discover the reason for the secret night journeys of the butler, Mr. Barrymore, to the window, got drunk and Sir Henry, for a minute and a half of the screen time, kept asking Dr. Watson what exactly Miss Stapleton, with whom he was falling in love, told Dr. Watson about orchids and Dr. Watson kept answering: “She said: it is too early to see the beauties of the place since orchids haven’t started blooming yet.” And they went on and on about it (see the video clip below; it doesn’t have subtitles but body language and manner of speech is clear enough to understand what is going on).

That last part about orchids became a popular expression. I’m not sure if others caught the season swap – I didn’t. It wasn’t until I looked up the original quote for this post that I realized that there was a switch.

I don’t know with any degree of certainty why the script writer or the director decided to do that: I doubt it was done for the phrase. But knowing where the movie was filmed, my guess is that they’d decided it would be easier to depict Devon’s nature in early spring without any greenery. And did I mention we had no orchids whatsoever?

I like orchids. Not only they are utterly beautiful but they are also very enduring: they bloom for months. But orchids do not like me: the longest I managed to keep one of them alive was about two years and it never bloomed again. Usually, though, it ends up like this (giraffe finger puppet optional):

Orchid post bloom

So while I still get real orchids in my house from time to time, I decided to focus my attention on more … durable objects. Who would have thought I could find a context to classify perfume as durable? But compared to orchids…

Black Orchid by Tom Ford does not require an introduction: by now everybody has tried it and made up their minds (but for those who landed on this post right after returning from a desert island, Kafka’s review provides all the information for this perfume you might crave). I just want to touch on a couple of aspects.

First, Black Orchid is one of a few perfumes that live up to the qualifier: it smells deep and dark. It’s not a day-wear perfume and it even smells differently in the evening (OK, I know that this part is subjective but I had to share how I feel).

Second, I fail to smell chocolate in Black Orchid. Usually I’m not surprised when I cannot get some notes since my nose isn’t too good with discerning them. But chocolate?! Do you know how many kilograms of dark chocolate I’ve consumed?!!

Speaking of chocolate, are you aware that there is an orchid variety that smells like chocolate? I encountered it on my Hawaiian trip – in a greenhouse though, not in nature (see the picture below). Black Orchid doesn’t smell like it either.

Orchid that smells like chocolate

Back to durability… I’ve recently discovered that my mini bottle of Black Orchid has gone bad. I got it in a swap so I’m not sure how old it is but it reinforces my bias against dab mini bottles. If I go through the remaining spray sample I might consider a small bottle since I like both the scent and the bottle. And I like the idea of a black orchid.

 

Images: my own

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Tu-ti-tu-rum-tu-tu or Musical Perfume

In the comments to Tara’s recent beautifully evocative review of L’Artisan‘s Tea for Two (you have to read it if you haven’t read it yet – I promise: you’ll be charmed) several people mentioned they didn’t like the name. They didn’t explain why but it surprised me so I kept thinking about it.

L'Artisan Tea for Two

For a long time I couldn’t figure out where and when I heard Tea for Two song for the first time. Actually, I could have sworn that the first time I heard lyrics of this song in 2007 on the CD Hey Eugene! by one of my favorite group Pink Martini. They recorded this song with a guest – 81-year-old legendary jazz singer Jimmy Scott. I found an interesting small article about that version of the song on NPR website:

… singer China Forbes starts off with the seldom-heard introductory verse, which makes it clear that the whole thing is a fantasy. There is no tea, and no twosome. She’s making it all up, because her love life is a disaster. […] Their [Forbes and Scott’s] “Tea for Two” becomes the confession of a woman and her imaginary lover, their innocence shielding them from all the things that might go wrong.

Since there’s no real video for the clip below can I suggest listening to it while quickly scanning through the rest of the article?

But I had a feeling that I knew this song… well, at least a line from the song (“tea for two and two for tea”) long before then. But from where? I haven’t heard this song before – either when I still lived back in my native country or after I moved to the U.S. But somehow I knew those words and recognized the tune… When I found the explanation I was amazed.

I was right: I haven’t heard the song before. What I heard many times through my childhood was Tahiti Trot, Op. 16 (listen to 10-15 seconds starting from 44s) – Dmitri Shostakovich‘s (a prominent Russian composer and pianist) 1927 orchestration of Tea for Two:

Shostakovich wrote it in response to a challenge from conductor Nikolai Malko: after the two listened to the song on record at Malko’s house, Malko bet 100 roubles that Shostakovich could not completely re-orchestrate the song from memory in under an hour. Shostakovich took him up and won, completing the orchestration in around 45 minutes.
Tahiti Trot was first performed in Moscow on 25 November 1928, and has been a popular encore ever since.

Of course I liked and recognized the melody! Of course I thought it was a great name for perfume! And when I tried Tea for Two perfume I immediately liked it as well.

Tea for Two is the only bottle from L’Artisan Parfumeur in my collection. And it’s one of a very few that are truly shared perfumes in my collection: I enjoy both wearing it myself and smelling it on my vSO. Perfume for two.

Rusty and L'Artisan Tea for Two

I have one more “musical” association for this perfume’s name (in case you still haven’t changed your mind about it). It’s an abstract linguistic joke I heard many years ago (told in Russian). Recently I discovered that it exists in some other non-English-speaking cultures (probably in those without long and short vowels).

A tourist who doesn’t speak English well calls hotel’s front desk from his room No 22 and tries to order two cups of tea:

Concierge: (cheerfully) How can I help you?
Tourist: Tu-ti-tu-rum-tu-tu
Concierge: Pardon me?
Tourist: Tu-ti-tu-rum-tu-tu!
Concierge: (with a shrug and eye-rolling, thinking: “Those crazy foreigners!”) Purum-pum-pum-pum! (rings off)

I keep murmuring that Tu-ti-tu-rum-tu-tu for the last couple of weeks.

 

Images: my own

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Captured in Amber of My Memory

Two young girls (about 11 years old) from different parts of the country met during a summer seaside vacation and became friends. One of the girls, let’s call her Emma, wore a pendant made from amber that had a tiny fly inclusion in it. She told her friend (let’s call her Ann), who admired the pendant, about the gem – from where it comes and how it is discovered. And each morning of the trip the two of them would be searching the beach hoping to find amber – without much luck. As Emma was leaving a day earlier, she suggested to Ann, who had lost hope to find anything, to do the last search alone. Even though her parents were hurrying her to leave, Ann went back to the beach and, against all odds, found a beautiful piece of amber. She was so excited that she just clutched it in her hand and ran back to her parents. The first time she actually looked at it was on her trip back home. First she was amazed by how beautiful it was – even more beautiful than the one in Emma’s pendant. Then she was surprised that her amber also had an inclusion in it. And then she discovered a tiny hole in the gem and realized that it was from a pendant’s bail…

Amber Pendant

This is an abstract of the story I read many-many years ago. Since I remembered neither the author nor the name of the story, I tried all the searches I could think of and didn’t find it online. So I did my best reconstructing it from memory. I wanted to share it with you because it was the first association I got when I heard the perfume name Captured in Amber. Not just the story itself but that warm feeling from the generous and completely altruistic gesture of friendship: Emma, whom Ann would probably never see again since they were too little and lived too far away from each other, not only gifted her friend with her own amber but made it in a manner that ensured that Ann couldn’t refuse it.

*

I find it fascinating that Shelley Waddington, the founder of En Voyage Perfumes and the creator of Captured in Amber, included in the composition both ambers known in perfumery: the accord created from labdanum, benzoin, vanilla, etc. and ambergris, which used to be known as amber before this name was adopted to mean “Baltic amber (fossil resin).” You could say that this perfume is a study in amber.

Despite what it says in the list of notes or what I read in others’ reviews, I do not smell chocolate in Captured in Amber. For me it’s rather a honey-like smell. But it is good honey, not the one that gets urinous# as it develops. When I applied Captured in Amber for the first time I was astonished by how precisely it fitted into how I imagined perfume with that name should smell. It is sweet and viscous and rich and warm and I cannot stop smelling my wrist – even when I’m wearing it with the regular application, not just testing. I keep doing that because the scent is such that I just want to soak it up in the less diffused form, directly from my skin. I feel caught, captivated, captured in that amber and I won’t even try to escape…

Amber Ring

It would be perfect to conclude this post with a picture of Rusty sniffing a bottle of Captured in Amber but I still can’t decide which concentration I should buy – eau de parfum or parfum extrait. As soon as I make up my mind I promise to make it up to you.

 

Images: pendant – from Via Valeron online store; ring – my own.

 

# MS Word spell check insistently tried to replace “urinous” with “ruinous”; not just suggesting but actively substituting. It’s not completely wrong: urinous honey note in perfume is ruinous to my enjoyment of the said perfume indeed but still I prefer a software application not to put words into my mouth, so to speak.

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Serge Lutens Boxeuses: Round One – I won

A while ago I did a post on several perfumes’ performance under extreme temperatures. As posting a picture from my Bikram yoga studio was out of question, I used a shot of Kathleen Turner from Body Heat (and mentioned her in the post). Since then different combinations of “Kathleen Turner “, “hot” and “body” brought to my blog more than six hundred visitors – just twice less than my blog’s traffic from the word “perfume” among the search terms, which is ironic since it is a perfume blog. And, as I checked out, not a single visitor came to Undina’s Looking Glass by searching for “Serge Lutens” or “Boxeuses”, both of which were mentioned (and tagged!) in the same post with the hot actress named above.

It’s not my attempt to improve my search engine ratings or attract more visitors (I’m not sure if I got even a single returning reader from native search traffic) but rather a quest to improve the balance of these search terms out there that I influenced unintentionally.

Radio Pictures Chorus Girls

Have you ever tried explaining to somebody who has almost no understanding in something that you know well why it takes exactly the amount of time you say it will and can’t be done twice faster? I do not write much about my day job on my blog but to give you a better idea of how I felt I want to mention that it’s a technology-related job in a non-technological company.

Last twelve months were extremely busy and stressful for me: we were working on a big project. It started with a series of meetings during which I had to fight for the realistic schedule. Preparing to those meetings was nerve-wracking: I knew the project would be a much more complex than my audience could comprehend or was willing to acknowledge; I knew they would be pushing for a shorter cycle and expecting an enthusiastic “Yes, we can” but I just couldn’t promise them something that wasn’t achievable.

One morning while dressing up for the Big Meeting I tried to choose what perfume to wear. Normally I would wear something discreet (e.g. Chanel No 19 parfum) but I knew that meeting would be a fight. Boxeuses! I do not wear perfumes as mood enhancers, I consider them ornamental. But in this case the name itself made me smile: it fit just perfectly!

Serge Lutens Boxeuses

I’m not sure what it was – a combination of the birch tar smokiness and dark fruit sweetness, an extra smile I got from the perfume name or my brilliantly performed presentation but I won that round and my schedule was approved.

Since then Boxeuses by Serge Lutens became my perfume for tough meetings. With that complex project my technical group was right on schedule while the data group, the manager of which was one of those pushing for unrealistic deadlines, spent extra seven weeks after that finishing their part. It took me a small-decant-worth number of unpleasant meetings and a lot of efforts.

…

The year isn’t over yet and it looks like I’ll need to consider either changing my job or buying a bottle of Boxeuses…

 

For real reviews read Grain de Musc, Bois de Jasmin and Kafkaesque.

Images: Women boxing on a roof, 1938 – I’m not sure who is the author, but here I found the best information about it; perfume – hajussuri (from whom I also received the decant that got me through this year – thank you!)

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In the Search for the Perfect Fig, Take 2

Three years ago I published the first Single Note Exploration post about fig note in perfumes and learned from comments that it wasn’t actually fig fruit that had a scent reproduced in perfumery but fig twigs and leaves. Since then I assaulted a couple of fig trees and can confirm: those twigs are very fragrant. Did you know the source of the scent?

Fig

Recently I learned another fascinating fact about figs. It started as a chat with a co-worker about fruits. I mentioned that I liked to eat figs. She looked at me with disbelief and asked with a faint trace of repulsion:

– You do know that those crunchy things inside are wasp eggs?
– ???
– You know, those seeds inside figs are not just seeds – they are eggs that wasps lay inside figs.

I’d never heard anything about that before so I didn’t believe her and went to consult a trusted source – Internet. What I found enthralled me. If you are familiar with the subject skip a couple of paragraphs – there will be a perfume-related bit in the end. For those who – same as I – somehow missed that and doesn’t want to do a full investigation, here’s a short* version.

A mature female wasp crawls through the opening into a fig where she deposits both her eggs and pollen she picked up from her original host fig. Since on her way in, having to force her way through a very tight opening, she loses her wings and antennae, after completing the mission the wasp dies. Eggs hatch, develop into larvae and then mature. Mature male wasp, which doesn’t have wings, mates with a female wasp and then digs a tunnel out of the fig through which the females escape. Once outside a fig a male wasp dies and a female flies to another tree, where she’ll pollinate another fig on her way in. The cycle repeats.

Fig

Now, when I know all that, will I stop eating figs? Nope. The only thing that bothers me in all that is that I’ve never heard about it before. Of course, figs weren’t widely available where I grew up but neither was salmon – and still we learned at school about them moving upstream to spawn and die. And we all heard about sexual cannibalism of mantises. But nothing about fig wasps.

Even though from the set of perfumes I tested for the first post I already had two favorite fig perfumes – Fig Tree by Sonoma Scent Studio and Wild Fig & Cassis by Jo Malone, since I like the note, I kept testing fig-centric perfumes and found several worth mentioning.

There are two nice budget choices for those who would like to wear a fig scent a couple of times in summer but doesn’t want to invest much into it: Mediterranean Fig by Pacifica (read Victoria’s (Bois de Jasmin) review here) and Fig Leaf & Sage by Kiehl’s (Ayala (Smelly Blog) reviews it in the post on sage note).

I’m on the fence about Premier Figuier Extrême by L’Artisan Parfumeur. It is a very nice, and said to be the very first, fig-centric perfume. But, like many other perfumes from the brand, it’s not tenacious enough to justify a full price purchase. Luckily, it’s not that hard to find a better deal for it (~$115/100 ml) online. And it’s one of those perfumes 100 ml of which might not be too much: even though it’s marked as eau de parfum concentration it wears as eau de toilette. Since I have a soft spot for interesting bottles, I couldn’t resist a fig-shaped Special Edition bottle. For reviews read: Victoria’s (Bois de Jasmin) post and Portia’s (Australian Perfume Junkies) guest post on Perfume Posse.

L'Artisan Premier Figuier

Finally, I did get to test a perfume, lemmings for which were created by a very persuasive review from Gaia (The Non-Blonde) – Figuier Eden by Armani Privé. I like-like-like it! But I’m not paying the price: not because Figuer Eden isn’t good enough but I don’t think there can be any fig perfume that can justify that price.

– Did you know that wasps lay eggs in figs – I asked my vSO when I got home the day of the conversation with my co-worker.
– ???

He didn’t believe me…

Images: my own

* The detailed picture is even more complex and covers fig trees/flowers’ gender, not pollinating wasps and much more. You can start from this Wiki page and then follow links.

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Everything Is Relative

He didn’t feel comfortable. Not comfortable at all. He had never bought anything from that type of stores before. But it was her birthday. So he sighed deeply end entered.

“Hello Mr. Stone! Or do you prefer Tom?” a bright-eyed, professionally exuberant shopping assistant smiled at him.

Some of his friends though it was spiffy when kids addressed them by their first names so he went along with that but he could never understand the idea of complete strangers’ familiarity, “Mr. Stone is fine.”

“Mr. Stone, I’m Cindy; I will be your Scent Guide today. Are you looking for something new for yourself?”

“I need to buy a gift… A perfume…” he paused trying to collect the thoughts: everything he saw looked a little strange and not the way he remembered or expected.

“Would you like to try the newest flavor from PepsiCo?” she made a slight move towards the stand on her left.

“No-no, I don’t need the newest…” A couple of times when he brought her something a sales assistant persuaded him “everybody is crazy about”, she thanked him with a polite smile but later, as if without connection to anything, she would go on and on: “I don’t understand why they try to re-invent the wheel: my favorite perfume was just perfect – why did they have to discontinue it?!”

“Oh, I see, Mr. Stone,” the girl smiled understandingly. “Here, Blanc Noir is one of the best sellers for the last couple of years. It’s a truly unisex composition and it’s very popular with our customers.”

“Sorry, Cindy, I didn’t explain it right… I’m looking for the special perfume. I need…” he chuckled apologetically. “Of course, now I can’t remember the name… Wait… I have it somewhere… somewhere… Right! Here it is.”

She looked at the name blankly and paused looking at the surface in front of her; then a flicker of recognition appeared in her eyes but was quickly replaced with almost disdain, “Oh, it’s an “old lady” perfume…” she burst out, then stopped herself and tried to recover, “I mean, nobody uses this one any more…”

“My mom is 70, so I think she would qualify,” he smiled for the first time.

“Of course, Mr. Stone. I’m sorry. Just a second, I’ll start your order,” she re-applied the cheerful smile to her lips. “What application form does your mother prefer? Do you want it as a drink, pill, food supplement or a patch?

“I need a perfume…” he felt as if they were speaking different languages.

“You mean, you want it in its historical form, in a bottle?” she tried very hard not to sound surprised.

“Yes, please!” he made an effort not to get annoyed telling himself that it was just a usual arrogance of youth.

“Here’s your order summary. Please check the price and your payment credentials. We scanned your biometric information at the beginning of the session but you know how those systems are sometimes…”

“Everything looks correct.”

“Great! We’re almost done,” her smile was shining exactly the way it was in the beginning of his visit. “Please make sure your 4-D printer is on. When ready, just say “Deliver!” or use OK gesture. I’ll stay online until your order is delivered.”

“Thank you, Cindy. You’ve been helpful.”

“Thank you for shopping with us, Mr. Stone! I hope to see you again soon.”

…

He fiddled with the bottle for a while: it looked very similar to those he saw on his mother’s dresser when he grew up. He didn’t remember the scent but hoped she would like it as much as the perfume the memory of which she loved.

V&R Bonbon

This fantasy came from my thinking on the topic after reading “old lady perfume” musings of one of the young(er) bloggers (yes, believe it or not, there are some people who consider themselves perfumistas and still use that term!) And though I’m still some years away from qualifying, for some reason it bothered me enough to create that story. It must be age-related.

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Perfume Shelf Life

For a while I was collecting DVD. My rule was to buy only those movies that I watched, liked and wanted to have in my collection. What I noticed over time: once a movie got on the shelf I would rarely watch it again. I would still like the movie, think it is great and even watch a big chunk of it if I would catch it while switching TV channels, but whenever choosing what to watch, I would almost never go for a DVD I own.

My DVDs

Recently I came across an interesting project – Found in Translation. A graphic designer Anjana Ilyer creates posters to illustrate words in other languages with no direct English equivalent. One of the words that grabbed my attention is similar in spirit but describes a different medium: Tsundoku – a Japanese word that means “the act of leaving a book unread after buying it, typically piling it up together with other such unread books.” I’m guilty of that behavior with the only difference: the books I buy and plan to read go directly on a shelf in my bookcase.

Tsundoku

Why should it be different when it comes to perfumes, right? I have a number of bottles in my collection that weren’t impulse buys – I tried them, liked and even hunted some of them; I didn’t get tired of them and do not consider them albatrosses – and still whenever choosing what to wear I pass them by and they spend most of the time just sitting on one of the perfume shelves in my closet.

Amarige Harvest Mimosa 2007 by Givenchy is one of those “tsundoku” perfumes. I tried it first at some duty-free store at the airport and liked it. I got a sample and as it was nearing the end I liked it more and more. By the time I decided I wanted Amarige Harvest Mimosa, being a limited edition, it was gone. But I was persistent and eventually a very reasonably priced bottle joined my collection. I still think it’s great and I’m glad I have it but the last time I wore it was while writing the post about mimosa-centric perfumes… three years ago. Since then it has been safely stored all the way back on the perfume shelf. For notes and actual review read The Non-Blonde.

Rusty and Amarige Mimosa 2007

It must be something with shelves in my house…

 

Images: poster by Anjana Ilyer; two other – my own.

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War’s Unwomanly Face: Serge Lutens La Fille de Berlin

Even though I was born to the generation born to the generation that went through the War, we grew up knowing about that war, remembering it and not leaving it behind us. Not only around holidays and special dates, but all year round we were watching movies about that war, reading books, listening to songs. We had our own mythology that became a common knowledge, the uniting force. Fascism wasn’t an abstract term: we knew a lot about it and hated it. Even people who opposed the Soviet regime held that war sacred. It was our war.

Of course, we knew about World War II, allies, joint effort to defeat Nazi Germany but in the country we always thought and talked about it as of the Great Patriotic War 1941-1945.The USSR lost twenty million people to this war. There were probably no families not affected by that war. It was our War. It was our Victory.

One important part of that patriotic mythology was an image of the Russian Soldier – the Defender, the Protector, the Liberator.

Soviet War Memorial in Berlin

So when I first read the explanation behind Serge Lutens‘ La Fille de Berlin perfume in Kafka’s review, I was appalled: how could he?! How dared he?!! They had started it! They were enemies who invaded our country, who methodically exterminated civil population, destroyed cultural heritage and stole everything they could steal – and they did it not even on an individual level but as an organized and controlled plan.

I understand that any war has multiple faces and that regular people who might have not contributed to their country’s decision to start a war might suffer from it as a result. I understand that horrible actions of one side do not justify those same actions from the other. But while Nazi Germany for years tortured and killed millions of civilians – just for belonging to the “wrong” nation or ethnic groups – as well as employed forced laborers, killed POWs and bombed hospitals, Germany got to endure the hardship of the regular army occupation for a couple of months (I’m talking just about the after war chaos since later both the Soviet and the U.S. authorities put an end to an uncontrolled violence) – and we should pay a tribute to their women’s resilience and hardship they went through?! I sympathize but … cry me a river. You don’t want to pay homage to women of the country that brought communism affliction to Europe? Fine. How about Polish women who suffered greatly from Nazis? Or Jewish? Not sexy enough, Mr. Lutens?

Serge Lutens La Fille de Berlin

Yesterday, on May 9th, the Victory Day, I wore La Fille de Berlin. I did it as an act of a symbolic protest against current Russia’s actions against Ukraine and its attitude towards the rest of the World. I like this perfume. I like the disturbing color of the juice. I like the opening rose burst and the metallic undertone of the scent. I wish I hadn’t read Kafka’s or Victoria’s (EauMG) reviews: I usually do not care for an ad copy or perfumer’s commentary so if it weren’t for those reviews, I would have skipped them (and I promise to myself never to listen to those pseudo-philosophical mumblings again). But what I read about La Fille de Berlin is imprinted in my mind now and I just cannot bring myself to wearing it.

During the Great Patriotic War my mother’s mom was brought to Germany against her will to be a Fremdarbeiter. She died young after the war and her sister, who during the war served as a nurse in front-line duty unit, raised her. I knew her as my grandmother. My father’s mother, a medical school student at the time, helped in the hospital in Evacuation. So I’d rather stick to my Portrait of the Lady rose – it suits me better.

Al Farrow The Spine and Tooth of Santo Guerro 2012

War’s Unwomanly Face is a name of one of my favorite books written by Svetlana Alexievich. You can download it in PDF from here (author’s site):

A woman is the giver of life; she safeguards life, so “Woman” and “life” are synonyms.
But during the most terrible war of the 20th century a woman had to become a soldier. She not only rescued and bandaged the wounded; she also fired a sniper’s rifle, dropped bombs, blew up bridges, went reconnoitering, and captured identification prisoners. A woman killed. She killed the enemy who, with unprecedented cruelty, was attacking her land, her home, and her children.

 

Images: The Soviet War Memorial from here; the rest – my own.

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Know-how [not to]: Freshen up a linen closet

In the past I said more than once that I wouldn’t mind paying more per milliliter for a perfume released by a brand in a smaller bottle (and I prompted brands to do so every chance I got). And I haven’t changed my mind since: many brands put a lot of efforts into each small detail of their creations, and I would love to have perfumes I want to use as a “full package” – with an original bottle and even a box. What I didn’t take into the consideration was a situation when I actually do not like the “big” bottle itself.

When I thought of getting Le Labo‘s Rose 31 perfume, I immediately decided against 100 ml (and even 50 ml) bottles since not only I didn’t need that amount of any perfume, I didn’t like Le Labo’s bottles at all. Their apothecary style with scientific labels just doesn’t appeal to me. 15 ml bottle would be a perfect size regardless of how the bottle looks (it’s not worse than a plain decanting atomizer, right?) – but with the price of a ml of Rose 31 from a small bottle being almost three times higher than the price of the same ml from the biggest bottle and two times higher if you calculate it based on the 100 ml bottle, I decided to go for a decant.

It was the second split in which I’d ever participated, and my collection was much smaller then, so I waited for it very anxiously. It arrived crashed – and so would have been my enthusiasm for splits if it weren’t for the very nice person who hosted the split: she offered to replace it and even absorbed the cost.

Rose31 Leaked Decant

It all happened so fast – my excitement from getting the package, disappointment from seeing its content gone, and the relief after the great communication with the host of the split – that I felt a little exhausted and, without thinking straight, just sealed the remains of the decant bottle in the same envelope it came in and took it home. Later I realized I didn’t need it but a thick envelop soaked with 10 ml of potent Rose 31 smelled so good that instead of throwing it away I decided to put it into my linen closet.

Envelope with Rose 31 Leaked Decant

My replacement decant arrived soon after that and joined the growing collection of perfumes. I wore Rose 31 once in a while and enjoyed it. Meanwhile the improvised freshener in my linen closet kept its smell for over a year – and I kept being amazed by that every time I would open the door… And then I noticed that choosing what to wear I would pass this perfume over thinking “I don’t feel like it today” and realized that it was happening because coming from the linen closet the scent became so mundane and unvarying that I didn’t envisage it as a personal perfume any longer.

Recently I came across an advice on making your linen closet smell fresh:

All you have to do is spray or dip cotton balls in your favorite scent and place them on the shelves of your storage space or linen closet.

This is a nifty little way to make sure your soft goods stay fresh. Plus, you’ll never have to place expensive air fresheners in the closet.

I chuckled at that “economical” advice calculating how many “expensive air fresheners” I could have bought for the price of Rose 31 decant – or any of “my favorite scents” to that matter. And that is not even counting punitive damages in the form of me not wearing that perfume.

SF Rose Garden

Now, two years later, I enjoy Rose 31 again. I’m amazed that I liked it in the first place since both cumin and agarwood are the notes that rarely play nicely on my skin but somehow the combination of all the components in this perfume was just right. And the staying power of Rose 31 is amazing not only in the closed space of a linen closet.  But something tells me I shouldn’t try Le Labo’s Laundry Detergent they offer in this scent.

Lorraine (Dear Scent Diary) has described Le Labo Rose 31 really close to how I smell it so if you haven’t tried it yet read her review.

Images: my own

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Chasing Daphne

I have a brown thumb. I know it is so because once I killed ivy – and it wasn’t even my intent! It doesn’t upset me too much since I never felt like growing anything. But despite that I’ve just adopted a plant. I wanted to do it for a while but for the last several years something would come up in January-February – the only two months when Daphne Odora (Winter Daphne) blooms. And knowing my “abilities” I wanted to get at least the first bloom.

Apollo and Daphne by Gian Lorenzo Bernini

Apollo and Daphne, by Gian Lorenzo Bernini

I found Daphne many years ago while walking in the park next to the office. I smelled something wonderful in the air – and just methodically sniffed every flower I could see around until I found it. Then it took me another year to figure out the name of that plant and then several more years to finally get it.

Daphne’s flowers aren’t that impressive: pale pink with darker center. They resemble many others flowering shrubs’ blooms. But the scent is heavenly. I thought how to describe Daphne’s aroma when serendipitously a couple of days ago I saw Ineke Ruhland’s Facebook post about that plant and I figured out that she was better qualified to give you an idea of how it smells – in case you haven’t smelled it before.

I would say it’s a must-have plant for gardeners who like scented plants or for perfume lovers. I’ve heard many gardeners rave about the scent, which I would describe as orange flower + lemon + honey + molasses. It’s sweet but not cloying. […] When you run across one with loads of blooms, it’s a real wafter.

Daphne odora

Since I smelled Daphne for the first time I wanted to have perfume with that scent. “Daphne odora” was my standard answer to questions in different polls as to which note/scent you want created in a perfume form. From what I read, all parts of Daphne plant are poisonous so I don’t think there will ever be an actual Daphne note in any perfume but I’m fine with a recreation – as long as it smells close.

The first (and so far the only) perfume I ever saw listing Daphne as a note was Eau de Tommy Sooni II by Tommy Sooni (it’s not the most imaginative name, is it?). I read Victoria’s (EauMG) glowing review and it was an immediate lemming. You should read it too if you haven’t tried this perfume yet. I don’t think I can describe it better.

Does it smell like Daphne? It doesn’t the way Carnal Flower smells of tuberose, Diorissimo of lily-of-the-valley or Miss Charming of roses. When I smell it on its own, my mind doesn’t conjure Daphne immediately. But when I do a side-by-side sniffing of the real flower and Eau de Tommi Sooni II, I can “see” the resemblance. It might be that this perfume has one of the many other types of Daphne, not Daphne odora that I like.

I think that Eau de Tommi Sooni II is one of those perfumes praising which one does it a disservice: since this perfume doesn’t wow you from the first sniff telling you how wonderful it smells might create wrong expectations and cause a disappointment. But I can say that it is interesting: once I applied it I wanted to smell it again and again, it captivated me. When I finished the first sample I thought that I’d need a decant. By the time the second sample was half-gone I decided to get a bottle and see if I could make the plant last as long as 100 ml of the perfume. I hope that Daphne plant doesn’t run away from me in terror or turn into a nymph.

So despite the not inspiring name and an objectionable bottle size (brands, be reasonable! Why make only 100 ml bottles??!) Eau de Tommi Sooni II has joined my collection as this year birthday perfume bottle.

Eau de Tommi Sooni II

Images: Apollo and Daphne – from here, the last two my own