Mini-Review Roundup, Dec. 2017 – early Jan. 2017

Yee-haw! Round ’em up, the short reviews of new (to me) things I’ve been testing:

Blackbird Perfume The Minimals Apricot
From the Surrender to Chance website, where I ordered this: Blackbird was first an award winning menswear store that opened in 2004 in Seattle. Nicole Miller, its founder and creative director, brought Blackbird to new heights in 2013 when she decided to focus on distributing the Blackbird brand internationally and closed her stores. Today Blackbird is known worldwide for its unconventional and remarkable fragrances and grooming products.

Apricot is from The Minimals Series which is a limited edition experimental natural perfume collection designed to be layered or worn alone. Each scent is a single ingredient distilled purely from nature in its raw form.

So, okay, an all-natural from an indie perfumery. Apricot is light and fresh in the matter of slightly-unripened fruit, tart and delicious but smelling somehow more of the twigs of the tree bearing the fruit, and of leaves, than of ripe jammy fruit. It’s airy and full of sunshine, a happy smell. It doesn’t last long on my skin, maybe a couple of hours (about par for an all-natural), but it’s wonderful while it does.

Like the above copy said, this was a limited edition that is not now being sold at Blackbird, so there was little point in mentioning it except that I liked it and found it interesting. I probably wouldn’t have bought it anyway: too short-lived.

Guerlain Bois d’Armenie
I’ve read multiple times that if you like benzoin, you must try Bois d’Armenie (based on the smell of Papier d’Armenie, which is paper impregnated with incense and benzoin that you’re intended to burn for . . . um, I guess a pleasant smell in the air? BdA had been on my wishlist at the decant services for, like, two years straight before I finally caved (hey. during a 20% off sale) and ordered a sample.

Turns out I needn’t have bothered. This is nice, very nice indeed, but not all that interesting. The notes are pink pepper, iris, rose, coriander, benzoin, Indonesian patchouli, incense, precious woods, musk and balsams but all I get is smoky benzoin, period. Pleasant, but oh well.

Amouage Figment Woman
I had completely written off trying this one because I thought it was a Fig Perfume. Which I hate, because Fig Leaf YUCK. (I still think that would have made a great fig perfume name.) Turns out it’s a Big White Floral instead — a “deconstructed tuberose,” several blogs are calling it.

Which, yay. Because the last time I tried an Amouage BWF with tuberose, it was Honour Woman. I really liked it for the first two hours (cue ominous music) AND THEN IT BECAME FROGS, so I was horribly disappointed. I was happy to give Christopher Chong another shot at wowing me with an Amouage white floral as fabulous as the packaging. This is really pretty packaging, y’all, probably my favorite Amouage so far, and that’s saying something.

The notes are Sichuan pepper, saffron, gardenia, tuberose, jasmine sambac, lisylang, cassia, orris, papyrus, incense and patchouli, and it looks like it would be a heavy hitter, doesn’t it? Incense. Patch. Spices and all the usual suspects of the BWF. The notes list makes me think to some extent of that massive and scary-weird deconstructed-tubey frag, Comme des Garcons for Daphne Guinness Daphne.

However, I was surprised to find Figment a whitish haze of nothin’-much that gradually devolved into that jasmine aromachemical that sets my teeth so absolutely on edge that eventually I have to scrub. Again a disappointment. I am about to give up on Amouage. (My wallet is relieved, I must say.)

Demeter Petrichor
You do know this smell, right? The smell of rain hitting dry earth. Petrichor is the reason you open your door after a summer rain and inhale and inhale and inhale, sucking all that good freshness in until you get light-headed, and then you have to lie down and thank God you’re alive, because petrichor.

Petrichor
By Viromnibus
The world where I stood was a desert
longing for a kiss that never came.
Not until you did.

Demeter’s rendition isn’t quite that transformative. It lasts less than an hour on me, and only smells like real-life petrichor for about 15 minutes. But it’s a lovely 15 minutes.

Share

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *