stay tuned...

I just lost Internet chez moi. Working to get my house back online. Stay tuned...

Penhaligon's Violetta eau de toilette

Penhaligon’s Violetta starts out like death by violets. But unlike Le Dix, the violets in Violetta are only slightly powdery, and way, way more crisp and green. The tiny powder note almost completely fades after the initial drydown, and the greens emerge: think leafy greens as opposed to stemmy. Violetta smells like after a rain shower (similar in many aspects to Guerlain’s Apres l’Ondee, although I haven't spent much time with that one). It reminds me of a fresh spring day after it rains, when the earth is steaming and you can still hear the water dripping from the leaves high up in the trees. To me, it smells watery without the dreaded marine note. Rather, it reminds me of a watercolor painting. It’s very cool, light and delicate, and doesn’t have much sillage. It stays close to my skin and ends up just smelling good. From time to time, I get the smallest hint of pine and woods. It’s a soliflore and was created in 1976, the year of my birth. It was meant to be! It’s tough reviewing a perfume I really love. After a while, I can’t analyze it anymore. It just smells like me, like something comforting, and carries with it all my past associations of it.

I visited Penhaligon’s on a whim while in Edinburgh in 2005. I saw it on my way to Jo Malone, and only stopped in because I’d read about Bluebell being Prince Charles’ and Kate Moss’ favorite scent. I was on a Jo Malone mission—-funny--now it would be the total opposite. I loved the Jo Malone experience, but made an unfortunate impromptu purchase. I'm sorry I didn't spend more time at Penhaligon's.

I didn't buy anything that day- it wasn't until a random stop in Glasgow where I bought the little tin of samples and asked them for a sample of Violetta. The first time I got around to try it was the summer of 2006. At the time I was living in a terribly uninsulated upstairs apartment and it was really, really hot. I fell in love with Violetta's cool freshness. It ended up being the first bottle of perfume I ordered online (save an inexpensive bottle of Fiorucci that I bought years ago from Sephora, unsniffed, because I love the store in Verona, Italy, so much. Thank god I liked it! A fizzy, fruity floral, nothing I would normally wear, but yummy indeed). With Violetta, I felt like I’d arrived. I was officially a perfumista. I’ve never looked back!

Balenciaga Le Dix, eau de toilette

Le Dix starts out very powdery and full of violets. I tend to reach for it in the spring because of its violets, but it could be worn any time of year. Those who don’t like powdery scents may not care much for Le Dix; there are moments when it’s just a huge (wonderful) powder bomb. Then again, it’s super classy, and the powder is more violet-toned than baby powder, so you might give it a shot.

Anyway, it’s a burst of powdery violets at first which slowly melts into smooth, creamy violets. A few hours later and for the remainder of the day, it smells wonderfully fresh and nice and very comforting, like a warm mom or favorite auntie. It’s all at once floral and indefinable. It smells very French, and very old-school. Le Dix is quite aldehydic, which contributes to its vintage qualities. Aldehydes are hard to define. They're synthetic molecules that not only enhance other scents in a perfume, but also carry their own powdery and sharp odor, which, unfortunately, gives perfume a perfume-y or “old lady smell.”

I wish there was another title than "old lady." Perhaps instead we could call a perfume a generational smell, and refer to it as something so unmistakably between the two World Wars. I think "oldy lady" perfume got its name because so many classic, older perfumes contain aldeydes (Chanel No. 5, launched in 1921, was the first perfume to use them) and that older women, then in their youth, discovered these scents when they first came into fashion and quickly made them their own. And they still love them. I do, too!

Aldehydic scents are quite civilized, I think. I’d much rather have that “old lady smell” than the generic, watery, ozonic fruity floral that my generation will surely be remembered by (ahem, Calvin Klein, I’m talking to you). I think, too, that perhaps older people lose their sense of smell and therefore really pile on the perfume. Again, though, loads of Chanel No. 5 vs. Eternity is fine by me.

Some great suggestions for other aldehydic fragrances can be found here, and an excellent review about Le Dix can be found here.

I read that Le Dix is named for Balenciaga’s address on 10, avenue George V, in Paris. *le sigh*

I bought my tiny little 10 mL bottle (the perfect size, in my opinion) for $11.99 at Imagination Perfumery. I think I must have bought the last bottle, but they do still have bigger sizes available for decent prices.

Michael Kors Island Capri eau de toilette; Tocca Touch eau de parfum; Kenzo Flower eau de parfum

Today’s review is of three samples I received in my last Sephora order: Island Capri by Michael Kors; Tocca Touch; and Flower by Kenzo.

Michael Kors Island Capri. On the card it says “The Ultimate Vacation in a Bottle.” Right. Could my vacation be away from this perfume? I don’t even want to touch it to my skin. It smells like watery mangoes and Windex, an instant, clanging headache. It’s like an electric blue raspberry, emerging from the ocean. A teenager would love it. It fades into generic nothing. Help, get this off my arm. Oh wait, it’s gone. Faded. Nothing. Did I even put this on?

Tocca Touch. I’ve heard a lot about this perfume, and always see it at Anthropologie. It comes in a pretty little feminine bottle and the juice is pink. The card proclaims “The freshness of gardenia and Tahitian tiare flower, the succulence of pomegranate and the warmth of Egyptian balsam evoke the refined essence of Tocca.” First impression: cinnamon-scented dryer sheets. Then: Clark’s Teaberry gum and cloves. I smell a little ylang-ylang, a lot of vanilla, and tons of potpourri. It has this strange gum thing going on. It’s a clean gourmand. Not for me but not a total scrubber, either. It’s overpowering the Island Capri on my arm, so that’s good. Something about it reminds me of my aunt Lorraine’s house in New Hampshire, which is kind of neat. Her house always smells clean. The juice settles in nicely but takes over in a pushy potpourri kind of way.

Flower by Kenzo. I remember this being very popular in France when I lived there. My memory of it was that it was too powdery. Here’s what the card says: “Floral Energy—wild hawthorne, Bulgarian rose, cassie flower, Parma violet. Powder Power—Bourbon vanilla, oppoponax, white musk. Urban Energy—cyclosal, hedoine. Ok, what are cyclosal and hedoine? And I’m not sure what oppoponax is, either. This perfume takes me right back to France. It’s almost … minty, like when you smell someone’s breath after they brush their teeth. It’s peppery baby powder, slightly floral, a hint of vanilla. My memory was correct: this is all powder on me. Overpowering, dusty talc. Whew! Babies! After a few minutes, the powder teases me with violets. But overall, there’s something reminiscent about Comet.

Overall, if I had to choose, I’d go with Touch. Update, 8 hours later: The violet in Kenzo flower finally reveals itself. Too little, too late. It's very pretty, but not me.

Annick Goutal Neroli, eau de toilette

All week long I’ve been reaching for Neroli. It’s a lovely, fresh scent for spring. When I first smelled it, I wrote it off as a one-sided one-note juice that faded too fast. I’ve struggled with Annick Goutal fragrances. To my nose, they all carry a similar thread of something that smells watery and ozonic. I love Eau d’Hadrian when it’s sprayed in the air, or on other people, but not on me. My dad gave me his half-used bottle, and on him it’s all lemon zest; on me it’s all chemical lemon cleaner. I like Violette … but not enough to buy it. Too powdery. Le Chevrefeuille is nice and light, but a little too airy for me, and combined with that weird ozonic note that I keep smelling (am I the only one?), it’s just too much.

As much as the ozonic smell kept turning me away from Annick Goutal, there was something that kept drawing me back, too. I think I fell under the spell of AG’s pretty little bottles and the brand's niche status. My local Nordstrom's AG section is alluring: all those cream boxes and bottles with gauze bows. I nearly smelled all of them, and the only one I liked was Neroli. I debated buying it. I’m glad I did!Wearing it all this week, I’ve discovered that it’s not only green and stemmy-- really perfect for spring, but it’s also a quiet, subtle floral, and not too sweet. It smells like when you hold a ripe, unpeeled orange up to your nose. A little juicy but not orange juice. No Minute Maid here. It’s slightly powdery but very, very soft.

I tend to apply it liberally, almost more like a splash. It has almost no sillage, yet I can still detect it hours later if I bury my nose into my forearm. There are random moments when I get that ozonic odor, and something like bad breath, but those moments fade into the softest orange blossom loveliness. While it’s certainly too expensive to treat like a true splash, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s ok if I actually finish up a bottle of perfume. I’d rather apply liberally and enjoy it than have it go bad. I’d love to try to matching shower gel … but my Cattier orange blossom suits me just fine (and is waaaay less expensive than the AG shower gel!)

Product Body Road Wash

I won this a few weeks ago in a contest! It’s Product Body Road Wash, a hand (or body) soap that’s halfway between solid and liquid. Product Body is based in Florida and run by a sweet woman named Joanna, who regularly blogs about the day-to-day doings at her company. I entered a giveaway contest, and actually won! Holy moly! I never win anything! So anyway, back to Road Wash. It’s actually not the first time I’ve used it. Last year I ordered some Whipped Shea Butter from Product Body (review to follow) and Joanna graciously included a small sample of grapefruit Road Wash. It was heavenly and smelled wonderful and fresh, but wasn’t overly scented. Just enough scent—perfect, really. I hate when soaps and lotions go overboard with scents; they either conflict with my perfume or give me a headache. The prize (pictured above) is scented with yuzu, aka ugli fruit, a citrus fruit that smells like a combination of lemon, grapefruit, orange and a little verbena.

It’s terrific! I use it all day at work, and it’s certainly much nicer than the pump soap in the bathrooms at the office. Just a tiny scoop creates loads of suds. It cleans my hands well and rinses clean, too. Pushing paper all day wreaks havoc on my poor hands; Road Wash is very softening. And it smells divine! So citrusy and yum. Not only was it awesome to win a contest (and get a little package in the mail at the end of a crappy week at work), but it’s also awesome winning something that I already loved! Hooray!

You can find the link to the Product Body website here, and Joanna’s blog here.

Here’s what’s nuts: I won another giveaway earlier this week from the perfume blog Sweet Diva! I have no idea what is going on with the universe, but the stars have aligned to my favor. The scent gods are smiling my way. Lucky me! Sweet Diva was cleaning out her numerous samples and will send me a little packet of them soon. Her blog is pretty terrific. She gives excellent reviews seems to like white florals a lot, which is helpful because I do, too. Sweet Diva can be read here.

To rebalance the karma, I finally bought a bunch of tiny, empty perfume vials to make samples for my friends and family. I love reading perfume and beauty blogs, but know how much work they take to maintain. I’m thinking these two random wins are big signs to me to get back into posting regularly on this blog. Stay tuned!

Roger & Gallet Shiso soap

Ugh-- I've been home sick with a stomach bug for the past few days. I've been catching up on tv watching and that's about it. A hot shower when sick, though, is an excellent remedy to feel better. My dear friend Nicole in France mailed me a beauty product care package about a month ago, and in it was this lovely Roger & Gallet Shiso soap. Their packaging is so pretty, I can't bear to recycle it. The empty box is now in my linen closet, scenting the shelves.

I'm not sure what shiso is, or what the notes in the soap actually are. I detect a lot of green, and that makes me happy. The best way I can describe it is that it smells like a bouquet of fresh wildflowers, with a couple of pink roses, too. It's not sweet, or anything like tuberose or jasmine, but more like fresh cut grass and hay and fresh air. Surprisingly, it's reminiscent of Chanel No. 19 lotion- a lotion I bought on a whim last year because I liked how fresh it smelled. (Unfortunately, I didn't wait long enough for the lotioin to settle into my skin the day I bought it. It smells so fresh at first, but later falls flat.) The soap, on the other hand, retains its freshness. It's a good thing to smell in the shower.

Roger & Gallet soaps are luscious and long lasting. They retain their shape throughout. It took me three months to get through the Citron bar and the one I used after that, the heavenly and simple Oatmeal Milk. Roger & Gallet soaps are my favorite. They're a little spendy at $6, but $6 for 3 months is completely worth it.

Guerlain's L'Heure Bleu parfum on my left, Miss Dior EDT on my right (before I wash my hands)

I sought out some classics tonight; L'Heure Bleu parfum by Guerlain and Miss Dior EDT by Dior. I wanted to smell the parfum of Miss Dior but Saks didn't have a tester.

L'Heure Bleu has been reviewed a bunch, and I don't think I have much to add to what I've already read. Somewhere I read that it smells like Playdoh; I'm sorry to say that's exactly what I smell. Sharp, peppery, powdery Playdoh. I do like it, but it's not for me. It's very, very different than anything else on the market right now, which I can appreciate. I'm always a little relieved when I'm not hot on a perfume; it means I won't have to buy it!

Miss Dior, on the other hand (literally) started out super earthy and dirty green, then turned grassy, and finally settled into this lush, rich, comforting patchouli on me. It's warm and round and encapsulating. It feels familiar, but I don't know anyone close to me who wears it regularly. It's utterly classic and sophisticated, like the kind of scent you'd smell on someone once and instantly recognize if you smelled it again. It's a close, skin scent on me ... and yet I feel like I'm not wearing Miss Dior, but rather Miss Dior is wearing me. Quite lovely, though! It's a chypre, which I love. It smells like a heavier, oilier Chanel 19. Nothing wrong with that!

apologies abound

I do apologize for the lack of posts- first it was the holidays, then the january blahs, then health issues, then book reviews and book club books, and finally a general lack of enthusiasm for sitting back down at a computer after being at one all day at work. more reviews to come, I promise!

Serge Lutens Bois de Violette eau de parfum

I first smelled Bois de Violette in 2005 on a perfume tour in Paris. My guide took me to Serge Lutens, a house I'd never heard of, on the first stop on the tour. I remember thinking, huh, nice perfume tour, why aren't we going to Jean Patou? Or Chanel? If only I knew then what I know now ... Bois de Violette would have been mine much sooner.

The sales associate at Serge Lutens sized me up and down and suggested I sample Un Lys. She put a drop on my arm and then had me compare it against each other fragrance I tested. Un Lys: so pretty and fresh! Next up was something or other-- Douce Amere, maybe; I liked Un Lys better. Then, Bois de Fruits; which did I like better? Un Lys. Next: Bois de Violette-- which did I prefer? I smelled both arms again and again and couldn't decide. Un Lys was gorgeous on me: all white lillies and dainty flower petals. Bois de Violette, however, was just as pretty, but in a darker, woodsier way. I smelled tones of vanilla and sweet wood, hints of violets and forest floor. Ultimately, I prefered Un Lys, but it didn't matter because in the end, I didn't buy either one. I told my guide, I don't want to blow my wad now when there's two more houses to visit (Guerlain and Montale). I left Serge Lutens with a small wax sample booklet and beautifully scented arms.

What a bust! Guerlain didn't do anything for me (although my aunt fell hopelessly in love with Mitsouko parfum) and neither did Montale (I did meet Monsieur Montale, who gave me a decant of Crystal Flowers in exchange for a kiss -- story to follow in a future post). I didn't buy anything at either house. I went back to Serge Lutens the next day while on a walk with my dad but they were closed. I did manage to get a small sample of A La Nuit from Sephora, but aside from that, I left France with no Serge Lutens.

Flash forward a year later to me unearthing that wax sample booklet. I retried Un Lys and found it way too heady and airy. Bois de Violette, however, was just like I remembered it: all cedar and violets swirling around in competition with each other. I couldn't wait to get to Serge Lutens on my next visit to Paris.

I bought it on the last day of my visit. I saved it for last because it was the biggest, most fragile bottle, and I didn't want it to break in my backpack while traveling. It's a bell jar and has no spritzer. It was wildly expensive, but worth it. Paris is the only place it's available. It felt so luxurious walking through the arcades and gardens afterwards with a tiny Serge Lutens bag on that sunny fall day. When I got it home, I decanted it to a small spritzer and gave myself a spray. I couldn't wait to bask in the glory of violets. I'd waited so long-- two years!

I didn't like it.

It wasn't how I remembered it. It was so ... unusual. The cedar just took over. I couldn't detect any violets. It turned strangely smoky on my skin after 10 minutes. It had a sweetness I couldn't place - not a candied violet sweetness, but a more vanilla smoky tea sweetness. I didn't wear it for weeks, months. The little spritzer on my dresser taunted me. Occasionally I'd give it a spray but it made me feel claustrophobic. It was simply too much.

Eventually, I decided not to spray it, but rather spray a cotton ball and dab it lightly on my wrist. I had to give it another go, especially in this cold weather. It's much more an autumn/winter scent to me. It works much better on my skin now that I'm dabbing it. A little goes a long way on me. I think when I sprayed, too much came out and it was overpowering.

I've been wearing Bois de Violette all week and it keeps intriguing me each time I wear it. To my nose, the first few notes are soda-like; cream soda, ginger ale, vanilla. It smells like a smooth cedar plank. It's so warm. The violet comes out on my skin after about 25 minutes. I get impatient sometimes waiting for it, but the warm woodsy cedar keeps me smelling. I still don't know if I'm in love with it or not; but for that reason, I think I must be. It's limitless on my skin. It keeps me on my toes. It's soothing and comforting. It's something I reach for when I want to feel warm. It's like a cashmere sweater. It's quite possibly the most intersting perfume I've ever smelled.

Violet Moss soap, by Fresh

I had high expectations for Fresh's Violet Moss soap. I just finished the Roger & Gallet Citron soap yesterday (I was spoiled; that bar lasted more than two months, kept its shape, retained its scent and continued to produce a wonderful lather). Seeing I'm on a violet kick, I reached for Violet Moss today.

The packaging is what lured me to buy it, even before the fragrance. It's gorgeous! All those purple and silver swirls, its little wire ribbon; this soap would make a perfect gift. I debated buying it; at $12, and no tester to smell, it was a bit of a gamble. I'm not entirely disappointed, but my expectations got the better of me.

The bar is good sized; in fact, I cut it in half. It's pure vegetable soap "enriched" with shea butter. First sniff, dry: very light and floral, like a sheer violet. I detected the tiniest hints of light greens, and a vague hint of earthiness. More than anything, it smelled like ... soap. Good, clean soap, but nothing special.

In the shower, Violet Moss was virtually unscented. I don't get nearly enough violet, and no moss whatsoever. My skin felt a little dry afterwards. It's nice, but overall, it's plain and unsatisfyingl. I'm glad I'm only stuck with half a bar. Hopefully, it'll go fast.

I feel most Fresh products are all about hype and good packaging. I used to love their soy shampoo, but after a while it dried out my hair. (It smells great, though.) Overall, I wouldn't seek out Fresh soap again, but I would certainly display a bar if I ever received one as a gift.

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.

Chanel No. 19 EDT

I've been wearing Chanel No. 19 EDT all week. It's a moody perfume. I reached for it last Saturday morning after a night of rain. And then I reached for it again on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday-- again and again up until today. I find it comforting in a cozy, grey-wool-sweater kind of way.

I've always been intrigued by No. 19. I think my mother had a small sample bottle as a child; I feel like I knew what it smelled like long before I actually smelled it.

It's not an easy smell to like. It's one of my more complicated perfumes. It's not at all sweet or fruity. No sugared vanilla or berries here. And I can't detect any warm patchouli at the end. Wearing it every day for a week, however, I've discovered some of No. 19's subtleties that had previously evaded me. Its most striking feature, I think, is its softness. At first spray, it's all angles and sharp edges; fresh cut grass and hay and crumpled leaves. Then, slowly, a soft leather rises up, followed by a sideways rose-- more of a green, antiqued rose (if such a thing even exisits!). It dries down into a warm, powdery finished, fresh in an earthy way; like freshly tilled earth.

When I got a sample of No. 19 earlier this year, I wrote in my little perfume notebook that it was like jasmine graphite, sophisticated, ladylike and heartbreaking. I certainly feel the same way now except I would add that it's very distinguished and very distinguishable from all my other scents.

Osmoz lists it as a floral green but I've always known it to be the queen of chypres-- an oakmoss that smells earthy and mossy and godly green. I have a small vial of the EDP that I hope to review later; I had a sample made at a Sephora in Paris as they only sell the EDT in the United States. While in Paris I also mustered up the courage to walk into *the* Chanel on 31, rue Cambon (no one hardly noticed me and it turned out to be not as scary as I thought), and was delighted to see a giant spray bottle of the pure parfum. I gave my arm a liberal squirt and spent the next 8 hours sniffing my arm every 15 minutes. It was absolutely gorgeous. No bitter angles at all; just soft, pretty green magic. I kick myself for not splurging on a small bottle of the parfum; a quarter ounce, however, was about 80 euros ... next time!

Samples again

Iles d'Or de Molinard is very, very vanilla, with bits of coconut and tropical fruits. It's nice and warm. Verveine de Molinard, on the other hand, is minty crisp, opening with astringent lemon and fresh verbena. Nice, but a little too minty for my tastes.

L'Artisan Verte Violette is very pretty, if a little ... watery. I can't place it; it's certainly smells like violets and greens but there is something aquatic-smelling to me. Is it the heliotrope? I'm not sure. I'm working from a tiny sample; this one might need a full spray to determine if I should invest.

I was surprised to like Piment Brulent by L'Artisan; anything with fire and peppers in its name certainly sounds more like a taco sauce than a perfume. It definitely smells like peppers, but it also has an unexpected freshness and zip to it. Again, it's definitely worth a spritz.

Finally, Sabi by Henry Dunay was recommended to me by Tracy at The Perfume House because of its violet notes (I'm a big violet fan)- while I can appreciate its prettiness, it quickly turned to dryer sheets on my skin. Comfortingly clean, but too laundry for me. Nieman Marcus lists the notes as "a blend of 250 oils, rose, jasmine, ylang ylang and exotic spices." It's worth checking out if you're looking for something unique.

Tidbits

Today's reviews are tidbits; smells in passing; first impressions of a handful of perfume samples. The first is Diamonds by Emporio Armani. The sample card lists notes as raspberry, lychee, rose, patchouli and amber; all I can smell is raspberry tartlet and sugar. It's very, very sweet.

Next is Diesel's Fuel for Life; notes on the card are mandarine and patchouli; the notes I get are nail polish remover and a sharp men's cologne smell that is rather unpleasant. Speaking of the dreaded nail polish remover, that's about all I could smell when I tested Lanvin's Rumeur. Smelling it gave me an instant headache. I also smelled banana peels, of all things, and later I could pick out icy white florals in the drydown but only after wading through the wallop of that headache.

I tried Missoni's namesake perfume out of pure curiosity (their new one, not the original); the sales assistant at Saks gushed about the chocolate notes when it came out last year. It does indeed have chocolate, but it's so fake I can't take it seriously. It also smells too much like apples. Chocolate covered apples! If the Strawberry Shortcake dolls had a chocolate apple character (would its name be ... Chapple?), this is what it would smell like.

I was surprised that I liked Tom Ford's Black Orchid Voile de Fleur. While I can appreciate the chutzpah of the original Black Orchid, its dirty patchouli notes are simply too overpowering on me. The original reminds me of dirty fingernails; it's earthy, strong, bold and stomps all over me. Voile de Fleur, on the other hand, still has the patchouli, but it's softened by violet, anise and a slight jasmine. It's a clean patchouli, way more refined and soft. Its drydown worked nicely on me and became a pleasant, warm skin scent. If the original is a trashy, vampy party girl, Voile de Fleur is her older sister, way more stoic and refined ... but still wearing slinky lingerie under that cashmere twin set.