Lately when I sniff perfume I think "Yup, smells like a ...scent!"

Not so helpful for this blog!

But in the mean time I have a new blog for one of my other passions...


Thank you, and I hope I get my little images back soon!


Perfect Violet?

I'm starting to get a clear idea of my perfect violet. Or at least, a little more defined.

I love the iris/violet/ambrette combination that I've sniffed a few times now.

Though I don't like cedar, though the muted vanilla-cedar of Feminite du Bois is lovely. It's like the vanilla rich redwoods of California. I wonder if the evergreens of Japan also smell of vanilla?

Though I'm from upstate New York, and the very best patch of purple violets in the family yard is under a maple tree. So instead of cedar I would prefer the smell of maple - sap, bark, buds, whirlygig seed pods, and leaves.

And I'd like mint. Not the smell of mint, but the cooling sense of mint. So that it smells like the bitter spring mornings that are hard to forget, due to startlingly cold finger tips. MK Journey has that sense - the cold bit of mint in the nose, that makes it refreshing instead of sickly sweet.

For the dry down... maybe some nice warm spices, a consolation for all that coolness? Carrots smell nice with ginger and honey, so maybe iris would, too. And violets smell good with almost everything, right up until I realize I smell like a tart.

And under it all, I'd love just a bit of dirtiness. I'm smitten with CBIHP's Wild Hunt (much more so then his Violet Empire), and I'd love some dirt. Though I'd settle for raunchy leather, or skin smell. Or maybe the smell of clean hair.

Isn't it fun to think of these imaginary scents, and to sniff all the real ones, of course.


TDC - Un Parfum des Sens et Bois

Friend of a friend she wore a tie and I didn't like her.

At dinner.

She said, "Your boss could just sit on you and claim accidental death, so you don't need to worry about getting fired."

I got drink up my nose and decided I liked her after all.

When we hugged good by she smelled sweet and powdery.


Official NaNoWriMo 2007 Participant


Miller Harris L'air de Rien

My house is resinous and translucent. The sunlight floats in like powdered fire, and even as the walls crumble they rebuild themselves.

I'm alone here, but who knows who was with me last night, when the moon was new and it's light feeble?

The leather chair holds me in familiar arms. In the golden light, the warm leather, the familiar room, everything is well and good. I watch the horses graze, as they chew unselfconscious of observation.

I was alone last night, but what does it matter?


Fracas de Robert Piguet

Bigger on the inside then it is on the outside.

A little memory of a little bottle - even for a 12 year old. Perched loftily on pillows, on a squishy chair, on an island of comfort in a sea of clutter. Sniffing, untangling... orange flower... and... and... more flowers? So this is what perfume can smell like?

And now I know tuberose, jasmine, that the orange blossom refreshes without sparkling, classic big floral... and this is still what perfume can smell like.


Tocca's Florence

The evening sun is drunk in by the goblets, and in turn they cast a drunken glow on the white silken table cloth and their vapors dance in the slanting light. They are filled with juices and nectars; each one painting the table it's own crystalline hue.

Sensual eyes beckon, hair anointed with the oil of gardenia, skin long heated by the day.

She smiles at him. He enjoys the tableau, as it's all for him, and she waits patiently until she can go bathe.