Carmaine by House of Matriarch - and a draw!

Earlier this autumn I had the immense luck to win a bottle of Carmine from "House of Matriarch" from Ines blog, "All I am - A Redhead". And it wasn't just any bottle. I was stunned when I went to pick up my prize at the post office and realized that the bottle I had won one was of the same type as depicted above. A heavy ornamental crystal thing with a silver top that looked so classy I'm seriously thinking about getting a new dressing table just to have somewhere proper to display it!

But the best thing was not the bottle but what came inside. Carmine starts out fruity, peppery, smoky and do I get a hint of stables? What happens next seems to be a different thing every time I wear Carmine. Sometimes I have gotten what I can only describe as a chocolate rose. The rose part here has none of that aldehyde washing powder lift that comes in many rose perfumes. This is the soft, sensual scent you'll get of the innermost part of a real booming rose. Imagine that matched with a smooth, highly aromatic chocolate, full of those substances that makes our happy hormones dance in joy.

On other occasions I've been taken back to India, riding a train on an icy cold night. Me and my husband cuddled up under a blanket, warming ourselves holding cups of sweet spicy chai while watching people go on with their lives outside the train windows. I also get fruitiness, this one is very hard to describe. Imagine an extraterrestial hybrid of Thai custard apples, sapodilla and dark caramel sauce and you're somewhere near. During dry down the gourmand chocolate note fades and everything goes softer. There are lots of sweet resins in there. There is faint vanilla, sometimes I think of Coca Cola. 

A man enjoying his chai

Carmine is unique, it's not like any scent I own or have tried. That's not strange given it's part of the Brave New World project by the Natural Perfume Guild. The aim of the project was to put focus on new ingredients, that have only been available to perfumes for the last 10 years. I have to admit I don't have a clue about what half of the officially listed ingredients in Carmine smell like individually. But I do know that Carmine smells good.

And now to the best part - the draw! One lucky reader will receive a sample of Carmine drawn from my own bottle. Just leave a comment below before Thursday the 24 of November and you'll be included in the draw. Contestants may live anywhere in the world and I will not be responsible for loss or damage caused by the post office.


Official Notes:
TOP NOTES:  Hiba Wood, Kewra, Tagetes (Egyptian)
HEART NOTES: Black Pepper, Michelia Alba, Michelia Champaca, Davana BASE NOTES:  Patchouli, Vetiver, Tonka, Oakmoss,  White Copal, Bruizinho, Tobacco, Chai Masala, Africa Stone, Celestial Amber, Sandalwood (Africa)

Images: http://www.matriarch.biz,  http://alittleadrift.com,  http://www.blingcheese.com

Le Labo - Labdanum 18

Some time ago I read Tarleisio review of Neil Morris Rumi. She wrote how she, in general, didn't like ambers as they are "so obvious", Rumi being one of the exceptions. I must say I didn't really understand what she was getting at. Amber is one of those notes I haven't given much thought. I don't reach out for them but I don't avoid them either. When a sample comes my way I dutifully try it on and think "this was nice" and then forget all about it.

But then I tried Le Labos Labdanum 18. My first thought was, "I can't believe I'm smelling like this. It's like 8 o'clock in the morning. On a weekday. I have to do lots of errands and meet people I barely know. And I smell so ... [eyes rolling] .... obvious."

I went on, thinking, who'd wear this? At first I pictured a young girl going out on the town, spraying on some Labdanum 18 in order to seem older and more "experienced". But a while later I thought, no, that's not it, there is just way too much skank in it. This is a middle aged mama going out and after a few drinks she thinks it's a good idea to rip open that leopard print blouse, tie it around under generous boobs, baring her midriff and dance like Britney in One More Time. When even this does not get her enough attention she starts rubbing herself up against everyone on the premises.

So what does it smell like? All the way through there are two sides of Labdanum 18. There is a soft and clean side, featuring lots of baby powder, chocolate, resins and creamy vanilla. That side does not change very much as the scents wears. Then there is another, utterly dirty, side. At first the dirtyness manifests itself as a small bitter harshness, a harshness that smells like unwashed hair. It's faint compared to the powder but it gives that eyebrow lifting "Did I just smell what I think I was smelling..." thing.

A while later civet enters the stage. Now Labdanum 18 smells like someone who has had a big workout but is to lazy to shower and tries to conceal this fact by  caking herself in vanilla baby powder. It's almost working. (And, I can see how this question might be arising at this point: I do take daily showers that include a hair wash, just so everybody knows...)

During the drydown there is that musk note that is somewhere between piss and pipe tobacco, the same one you get in Serge Lutens Muscs Koublai Kahn or Bois et Musc. I'm intrigued about the fact that it feels so intensely perverse but I can't put my finger on exactly why.

So, what is my final verdict of Labdanum 18? After all, I do like it. But keeping some around the house worries me. Because I can very well imagine the following scenario. At some time me and my girlfriends manage to get babysitters on the same night and decide to have a grand night out. First we have some drinks at my place and when it's time to leave I just make that last trip to the bathroom and start thinking, oh, I really need some more perfume. Wasn't there this scent I reviewed that was such a smashing party scent, Labdööööch.... something? Oh yes, here it is, lets put some on, and then things are just going downhill in a straight like towards that bare midriff Britney scenario....

Pic: picture2video.com

Doing the classics - YSL Opium

A while ago I was the lucky winner of "Perfumes, the A-Z guide" by Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez in a draw on the lovely blog Feminine Things. "Perfumes", if you don't know of it, contain reviews of 1200 or so perfumes. The authors do not hold back on critisism, neither good nor bad, making it a very entertaining read.

There are several ways to read the book. The reviews I've found the most useful are the ones reviewing the classics. Even the saddest little perfume shop, among all the clelbrity scents and cheapo fruit blends there tend to be a few classics still hanging around. They might look sad and out dated but, when you think about it, the reason for them being there is that someone has dearly loved them, loved them so much they've gone back time and time again to buy them, in some cases during more that 50 years. And by reading "Perfumes" I've gained two pals to hold my hand and giving me a guided tour on what's so remarkable about those classics.

Yesterday, after delving into "Perfumes", I decided it was time to try on the legendary icon YSL Opium. It was originally launched in 1977 and, as far as I understand, pretty much dominated the scent scene during the years thereafter. How to describe it? Well, if Opium was a movie it would be from 1977 (duh!). The plot would take place in an old antique shop, specializing in intricate oriental wood carvings. It would also turn out that the owner is dabbling in Chinese medicine, in his bathtub he's trying to create a elixir of youth, based on equal part old school sun tan lotion and Nivea cream, spiked with a secret blend of oriental spices, resins and balsams. Main character is played by Linda Lovelace (seen on the left) and the plot itself (or lack thereof) I will leave to you, my dear readers, as an excercise.

Or, trying to be a bit serious here, Opium starts out very two sided. There is strong, freshly cut up, wood and a creamy generic sun tan lotion. After half an hour these merge into a malange of vanillia, cinnamon, balsam resiny goodness. It's soft, smooth and well integrated. I kept thining of Opium as a Ormonde Jayne Tolu, but everything golden is replaces by a 70-ies hue of mahogany brown (if that makes any sense to anyone). Opium also turned out to have remarkable staying power, I sparyed it on at 10 a.m. and it was still strong 12 hour later.

What surprised me most about Opium is that I fell in love with it. I thought this would be a little experiment, aiding to my general perfumista knowledge but I found I seriously enjoyed wearing it. So much I'll be getting a full bottle somewhere in the near future.


Disclaimer: I don't own a sample of Opium. This blog post is based on my one time experience, spraying some of the reformulated 2003 version of Opium on, at a store counter.

Shiso by Aftelier Perfumes

"You take the blue pill – the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill – you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes."  -Morpheus

That was what come to my mind when I thing about Aftelier Perfumes Shiso - my little red pill. It's really that different, that unique and interesting. A whole new universe of how a scent can be opened up for me. And luckily, I ended up in a truly beautyful rabbit hole indeed.

But, it's not just the scent of Shiso that is unique, it also seems to wear differently on me than other scents. As far as I'm aware of perfumes wear in 2 ways; there is the classic top->heart->base note thing and there is the simpler linear wear, also called WYSIWYG, the way a perfume smells at first sniff is how it will continue to smell, it will only grow weaker over time.

In Shiso I found one single note standing out the whole time, from beginning to end while the supporting notes changed over time. If I was to compare it to Tango, Tango wears like an orchestra playing a symphony. The notes work like the different instruments, sometimes you can discern them one and one, sometimes they all support a bigger theme. Shiso wears like there is one soloist note, playing a concerto with a symphonic orchestra as  support. I'm very interested in hearing if this is just on me or if others are having the same experience.

And what is that note? Well, here I have a dilemma. I don't know. I suspect it might be shiso, the Japanese herb bearing the same name as the perfume, paired with clove and cassia. But I don't know what shiso smells like so I can't say for sure.

One think I know though, and that is that I have ań active mind that happily makes up for whatever gaps there seems to be in my knowledge, Shiso is no exception. Now, my scent markers tend to go into 2 categories, one for wine related scents and the other is for scents of stuff I felt passionate about as a child - which seems to be mostly candy. That note I feel so strongly in Shiso is very similar to a Swedish candy named "Sura Cola Nappar" (Sour Coca-Cola Pacifiers), I'll call them SCNs hereafter. SCNs are made of gelatine, flavoured by something slightly resembling the taste of Coca Cola and dredged in citric acid, making them extremely sour on the outside with a sweet core.

Sura colanappar

And the supporting notes, what are they? Well, that's the cool thing. It seems like everything goes with SCNs. A first I make out exquisite sandalwood. At times I get resin. There is leather and notes similar of the stable notes found in mature red wines. Toward the end Shiso goes a little sweeter and lighter, I get tart green citrus and I also get a little mellower yuzu. According to the official notes there are green peppers and geranium in there. I wouldn't ave thought of them if I hadn't read up, but they are there, adding structure and a hint of sharpness.

Now, SCNs aren't the most exclusive of foodstuffs (even calling them foodstuff is stretching things), but don't let that scare you off. If they are not available where you live, your mind will probably latch onto something else. Trying Shiso was a grand perfume experience for me. It made me realise that all the perfumes I've previously known just take up a small fraction of the infinite universe of smell. Thank God there are perfumers ready to explore what more is out there, and that there are fumeheads, like me, who just love to get to go on those trips!

Orange Star by Tauer Perfumes

Orange Star starts with a bang, supernova style. There is orange peel, mandarins, aldehydes, honey and spices all over the place. I'm picking out cinnamon and cloves. It's sweet and syrupy and I keep thinking this should be pretty close to what you get if mixing Coca-Cola with one of those high quality Italians orange sodas in small bottles (San Pellegrino I think they are labelled), and then boiling everything down to a concentrate. 

Pretty fast the initial fruit frenzy of Orange Star calms down. What is left is warm and resinous. I'm getting a lot of resin actually, I'm a little curious about it as I haven't seen that in any other review. When I was a kid I used to play the violin and there is a note in Orange Star that reminds me a lot of the stuff you rub onto the bow, in order to get a sound. Also, there is still orange zest and some lemongrass that add a herbal bitter note. Half a day later there is resin and vanilla. I'm not catching any citrus or lemongrass right now.

This is my second Tauer, I've only tried Zeta before and I'm amazed about how much there is to discover in them. They both have such a distinguished style, it's difficult to explain, but these are big scents. Never a dull moment with a Tauer on your arm!

I'm rating it 3 out of 5. It's a big scent that everybody should try. I'm just finding that resinous note a little bit to much at the moment. Maybe it will work better in winter?



Pic: phenomenica.com