Joy, by Jean Patou, Eau de Toilette

Lately I've been craving roses and violets. I've built up a nice collection of rose and violet blends, but this week I've reached again and again for Joy. As you can see from the photo, I love this perfume. It's nearly half gone. I bought this little 30 mL bottle in Montpellier, France, in November, 2004. It was one of the first full bottles I've ever bought for myself; it's one of the scents that fueled my passion for perfume.

I'd read about Joy before ever smelling it; I'd read how it was the most expensive perfume ever created when it came in in 1930; how it took pounds and pounds of jasmine and roses to create a tiny bit of parfum. I did my research on how much it cost in France vs. America, as well as in different shops in France. I finally found this bottle at a Douglas perfume shop for about 30 euros. A veritable steal!

Joy is pure elegance. It's one of the prettiest perfumes I've ever smelled. I didn't love it at first. It felt a little too tight, like a stubborn rose bud. It also smelled old-fashioned and too refined, at least to my nose in 2004. I still agree with these first impressions, only now I'm more tuned into Joy's subtleties (its warm ylang-ylang) and more aware of its rose-jasmine wallop. Joy is the perfect dance of rose and jasmine. When the rose starts to lead, the jasmine takes over; when the jasmine gets too heady, the rose changes the tempo. The initial hit is antique - almost waxy - like a dried corsage; then a freshness appears, and it's all wrapped up with sharp aldehydes that keeps the scent on its toes (I think it's the aldehydes that gives Joy its old-fashioned feel.) All together it's classy and beautiful.

I've never tried the eau de parfum or pure parfum, but I've heard they're equally as gorgeous. Some people get a "cat pee" whiff from Joy; I'm guessing that's the jasmine, which doesn't fair well with everyone's chemistry. Some jasmines are super indolic (Serge Lutens' A La Nuit being one of them); which can anoint certain skin with an "eau de poop" smell. Too bad for them. Jasmine and I have always gotten along.

I love the body lotion; I bought a bottle in May, 2005, at the Paris flagship store. The saleswoman told me that Joy lotion is one of the best representations of the perfume she's ever smelled. I totally agree-- most lotions or creams smell nothing like their source, but Joy captures it very well. It's quite strong; I have to cut it with unscented lotion lest I go into Joy overload (not that that would be a bad thing). After a shower, it's heavenly to smell so pretty, and the tiniest bit of lotion lasts most of the day.

While I tend to reach for Joy in the colder months (I associate it with when I bought it), it's a gorgeous perfume that can be worn in any season.

Serge Lutens Fleurs d'Oranger eau de parfum

I first smelled Fleurs d'Oranger at The Perfume House this past summer. Serge Lutens is probably my favorite perfume line. Every time I'm at The Perfume House (one of the only places in the United States that carries the line, and, lucky for me, in Portland!), I always linger in the Serge Lutens section.

Even though I don't care for every Serge Lutens creation, I always find them interesting. They're some of the most innovative, different scents I've ever smelled. It's very black or white with me and Serge-- either I fall madly, deeply in love or the juice is totally, completely not for me. This is trouble. How do you not buy a perfume you fall madly in love with, at first sniff? I thought I'd had my fill with A La Nuit, a gorgeous blend of three types of jasmine. I couldn't wait to get to Paris to buy Bois de Violette (one that's not imported to the United States). I didn't care for Douce Amere, Datura Noire, Chergui or Fumerie Turque. Or even Sa Majeste La Rose. I thought I'd smelled what I'd smelled and had my fill (as had my wallet).

Then Fleurs d'Oranger wacked me upside the head.

I was at The Perfume House to meet Angela for the first time. She's a writer for my favorite perfume blog, Now Smell This, and when I found out she lived in Portland, too, I suggested we meet at the shop for some sniffing.

I'd already sprayed it before she got there. I met her, shook her hand and then said, "Ok, smell this!" And shoved my wrist under her nose. Without missing a beat she said, "Wow, that's gorgeous on you!" and I said, "Yeah, I know, OH NO!"

$110 later, I was the proud owner of a 50 mL bottle, all wrapped up in a polkadotted black bag (I also bought Louis Ferraud's Love Story, for a whopping $33! Couldn't pass it up).

Where do I even start with such a great scent? In the beginning, I get the most perfect, equal blend of tuberose, jasmine and candied orange peel. It sparkles. It shines. It illuminates. It brings me such joy. Underneathe all that is the most gorgeous, freshest rose I've ever smelled in a perfume. It's subtle; the jasmine and tuberose definitely fight for the front row, but there it is: rose rose rose.

What follows is a touch of cumin (Angela picked this out right away and it was confirmed from the little list of notes the store had). I don't think I would have picked it out myself, but now that I know of it (and smelled a jar of powdered cumin back at home to verify what it smells like), I can smell it in the background. It's slowly simmering on the back burner. It grounds the sweetness, diminishes the potential cloyingness and most of all, gives the perfume warmth. This scent is far from cool; it radiates sparkly rays of sunshine and always cheers me up.

Coincidentally, one of my male friends fell in love with it, too, about a month ago. He's a fellow perfume fan, and is the person who introduced me to The Perfume Shop a couple years ago. All Serge Lutens fragrances are unisex. On him, the orange really shines through, along with a bitter tea note and lots of woods. I love that-- how the same scent can smell so different on someone else.

Kelly Caleche Eau de Toilette - Hermes

The bottle to this perfume is gorgeous-- all tall and elegant, with pink-hued perfume. I'd been eager to try this; it was created by Jean-Claude Ellena, Hermes' in-house perfumer. I became a big Ellena fan after reading an article in The New Yorker about how he created Un Jardin Sur Le Nil in 2004. Chandler Burr wrote that article (and is now the perfume critic for The New York Times) and chronicled Ellena's process from start to finish. Reading that article kickstarted my interest in perfume.

Back to Kelly Caleche. It's very, very pretty. According to Ozmos, its notes are: Top: green notes, lily-of-the-valley, rose and narcissus; Middle: climbing rose, mimosa, tuberose; Base: iris, woodsy notes, leather accord. What I smell most is lemon, followed by tea rose and soft leather. The leather isn't as overwhelming as walking into a leather store but more like burrowing your nose into a supple leather handbag. It's subtle. Upon first spray last night I said, Oh! Now that's a scent for me! It's softly layered and opens very quietly and gradually. I get hints of green lemons and menthol and the softest rose. It's less in my face that Coco Mademoiselle.

Ultimately, I don't think I'll invest in a full bottle. It's too similar to Un Jardin Sur Le Nil for me to fork over $75. In France, many perfumes are available in 30 mL, the perfect amount, in my opinion. Just enough, especially if, like Kelly Caleche, it's pretty but not mind-blowing.