Scent Images, Etc.

phoo

2008-10-18T12:35:00.000-07:00

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...

http://pookyspookycrafts.blogspot.com/

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

Perfect Violet?

2007-12-10T02:51:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-22T05:32:00.000-08:00

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.

2007-11-08T02:59:00.000-08:00

Miller Harris L'air de Rien

2007-06-24T12:19:00.000-07:00

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

2007-06-16T07:59:00.000-07:00

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

2007-06-04T18:45:00.000-07:00

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.

Wedding Scent

2007-05-30T18:37:00.000-07:00

I wore L'air du desert marocain. My bouquet was a waterfall of spicy dendrobiums, gardenias, white freesia, and lime leaves.

So now how can I recreate that smell of dry spices + floral and lime?

Today is a day for lists

2007-05-19T07:58:00.000-07:00

No new perfumes until after the wedding, since an allergic reaction might be the wrong kind of funny.

So...lists! They're keeping me going...

Notes I wish Were in Perfume (More Often?)

catalba tree blossom and bark
honey locust blossoms
black locust blossoms
fresh horseradish blossoms
wet marble pebbles
dried lawn
vague sheep impression
and probably other things

Tauer's El Maroc Pour Elle

2007-05-16T19:18:00.000-07:00

It forms out of dust, and cedar, and vines as it has formed for centuries. He is the monster, the devourer of the unwary, the killer, the sound in the doorway.

She is resting under the flowering vines, her skin brown and smooth.

"Ah," she stands, and smiles even as the sounds of screams recede around her. She reaches out and strokes the monster's cheek, "Are you here to devour me?"

His breath has sand in it.

"Well, my brother is much bigger, go eat him instead!" She reclines, smiling, disturbing the flowers around her.

The monster slides into the palace, and as he does he begins to crumble. "My heart," the monster sighs as he fades into nothingness. "So that was the other side of hunger..." and he is gone.

------
Note: A couple people left compliments for me over at PP, and I want to say I am thankful and humbled. I am responding over here because that seemed somehow more appropriate.

Also, my wedding is in a week and a half. Golly.

Gourmands

2007-05-11T17:05:00.000-07:00

The real reason that I'm jumpy about gourmand fragrances is land sharks.

You can never be too careful, there's no reason to go covering yourself in chocolate, apples, or fish. It's just asking for trouble.

Frederic Malle's L'eau D'hiver

2007-05-11T11:07:00.000-07:00

Someone dressed in baby powder blue, nice trousers, apron and all, has scrubbed a little heart of visibility into the condensation on the kitchen window. Everything else is misty, wistful, cool to the touch.

There is a cup of wildflower honey, and a quarter cup of orange blossom honey waiting patiently on the sticky white counter.

What will we make today?

Today we make candy and cakes and babies and preserved blossoms.

Tom Ford Private Blend : Black Violet

2007-05-07T10:26:00.000-07:00

What's that girl? Someone is down the well?

arf

Er, those are violets. While I could very easily dangle from my ankles by a centuries old rope to try to save them, it might be better to just take one giant step back. And I think we should leave them be, they're pretty.

arf

Yes, you can have a cookie.

Tauer's Reverie au jardin

2007-05-03T17:04:00.000-07:00

Note: I am so glad I have recently stumbled into the world of decants, without which the world of post-op recovery would smell so boring.

I do not see a garden, but a room in my grandparents' house the colors of an old photograph. I can smell my grandmother's powders, my great-grandmother's empty perfume bottles. I can hear the spring robins, and the rustling of bundles of herbs as they dry. My fiance is there in the room, in this fragrance, though he never met my grandparents. He is waiting to go for a walk along the creek. It is a memory, and also a dream.

Amber

2007-04-29T10:09:00.000-07:00

Amber is another ingredient I could just wikipedia for, but chose not to.

It obviously is a type of rejected violin rosin. Reddish brown in color, it gave the violinist such a wonderful control of tone that soon everyone within earshot felt a wee bit swoon-y. Kisses were soon to follow when - the violinist would burst into flames!

Luckily, the violin and bow were always ok.

And that is why amber is now used in perfume.

Violetta di Parma

2007-04-28T13:38:00.000-07:00

At first: Sugar, purple violets, and their leaves all smashed in a plastic blender. Smashed as in drunken.

After 2 hours on the skin:
At first, it just appeared as if the house plant had been hit with something. But then the pink import shoes wiggled, and the scene of mayhem became clear. An import doll with white, purple, and green hair, spoiled with couture doll fashion, had gone on a sugar bender nibbling down Choward's Violet Mints. The vase was broken, the cat was jumpy, and the house plant was severely dented.

Bad dolly.

Burberry Brit (for women)

2007-04-25T14:29:00.000-07:00

It's an afternoon tea time that starts off with lime custard. The young woman in cream has just eaten a spoonful, and now she's hugging all of her guests, leaving behing chilled custard kisses. Everyone is perfectly charmed, and they find the manicured garden and hedgerow to be absolutely pleasant.

It is, of course, sunny. Not too hot. A smattering of cumulous.

Amber by Sage EDT

2007-04-24T11:26:00.000-07:00

First, there is a Victorian fireplace, with a genuine replica Egyptian cat statuette resting on the mantle, along with a slipper orchid. The embers are the only visual hint that there was once a roaring fire, though the hearth is still warm and relaxing for dance-worn muscles. A woman relaxes, her hair falling out of the careful twist, her dress wrinkled, her lipstick gone. Her hands ripple through the air in memory of the waltzes she has danced. She can feel her cat purring through her little pink toenails.

Al a Figue by Satellite

2007-04-23T18:43:00.000-07:00

California.

It is late afternoon. Violets, reds, and yellows. The sun is yawning, and the young mother's shoulders are hot - unprotected in the sandy sundress. She leans over her child, on the dry and grassy hill. Her arms are brown, unfit, as strong as they need to be. The baby has a potential for dreams to be touched as his mother whispers to him with her sweet breath.

Then it fades.

Affection by Mary Kay (on my skin)

2007-04-22T10:35:00.000-07:00

Delicate and strong trees and vines dance gracefully together, furling and unfurling like watercolors in sweet red colored tea. The trees bend slightly when touched, and the thick bark emits a deep, sweet fragrance. There are flowers that chime like bells, and vines that obscure hide-aways trampled and worn into the ground beneath. The sky undulates like cream silk, both clouds and heavens in one. The whole garden grows out of foam egg crate insulation. It is an exotic, unexpected, and surprisingly comfortable place to be.

Sandalwood

2007-04-21T20:00:00.000-07:00

I don't know what a sandalwood looks like. I could look it up, I know.

I picture it as a sandstone brown tree that's twisted up like curly hair. It has figgy branches and yellow-white blossoms the size of teacups. Jutting out of the tremendous blooms are sandy pistils that can be plucked off and sold directly as incense.

It believes in peace and decorating your house in dark reds.

Soul by Curve (on the skin of my fiance)

2007-04-21T19:23:00.000-07:00

Initial image:
A normal, although rather attractive, young man going to work with a leather briefcase. It's spring and he has just showered.

Last image:
An Australian dog, wearing a leather coat, has peed on a sandalwood and then rolled on it.