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

Tango by Aftelier Perfumes

Earlier this year I spent some weeks on the "Tim Ferriss diet" in order to get rid of those last post-pregnancy kilos. That means, somewhat simplified, 6 days a week you eat low-cal-high-fat food. The seventh day is your "day off" - you get to eat any amount of anything you like. Tango from Aftelier Perfuemes pretty much sums up what I did on my day off, plus a bit more.

But, lets start from the beginning. First time I put on a few precious drops of Tango, I just went "?????" I couldn't figure it out. There just was nothing familiar I could hold on to. Nowhere to begin to understand this thing. I felt so confused. But then the notes started to unfold. The first thing I got took me back to when I was something like 10 years old and went to the dentist to get braces. The dentist took out this metal mould that he filled up with some type of putty. This he shoved into my mouth in order to make a cast of my teeth. That putty tasted a bit like the first seconds of Tango. A very unexpected first impression.

By then things should only get better, and fortunately they did! I started picking up spices. First charred ginger, then cloves and in no time I had a nice little orchestra of spices playing gingerbread dough on my wrist. I also got, at some points marzipan, Cadbury milk chocolate, Kahlua, chai and lots and lots of sweet pipe tobacco. The notes kept on moving, dancing, sometimes disappearing but then showing up in a new guise. Like watching the face of someone you love, discovering new cute things all the time.

At the time I did the testing for this review I was staying at my in-laws house out in the countryside and I asked my mother-in-law if she'd like to try my Tango sample along with me. She did, and Tango turned out very different on her. In fact, if I had not seen her apply about the same amount of Tango as I did at the same time I had never thought it be the same perfume! When I had this symphony of spices and tobacco, she got a bit of sweet wood and some cinnamon during drydown. No gingerbread and no pipe  for her, whatsoever! It was like her skin was eating all those notes alive. On the other hand, we also tried Mandy Afteliers Honey Blossom and the florals there turned out much better on her, more vivid and longer lasting. So now she is the Flower Power Woman while I'm the Spice Girl.

Also, when reading other reviews on the net, I seem to get a sweeter and foodier treatment than others. Actually Tango is listed as a floral on Fragrantica, and Champaca is one of the official notes, but that one is not revealing herself to me at all. But, as a gourmand scent Tango is fantastic, containing all the stuff I love but shouldn't eat too much of, with a bit of pipe smoking thrown in just for fun. It has grown on me every time I've tried it and now I know, if I ever have to do the "Tim Ferriss diet" again, Tango will be what gets me through those 6 days tedious diet days every week.

Le Maroc Pour Elle by Tauer Perfumes

Wearing "Le Maroc Pour Elle" has been a bit of a challenge for me. I'm sure that for at least 10 times or so, I've sniffed my wrist and thought, "Oh no, that's a note I don't like". Then, when leaning in to take a closer whiff, ready to condemn it forever, I realised "Hey, this is so not me, but I like it". The scent has been tip toe dancing on that thin line of wearability but every time so far it has landed on the ok side. 

In a way "Le Maroc Pour Elle" makes me think of Degas, a French painter that lived 1834 to 1917. He is famous for (among other things) his paintings and drawings of ballet dancers. When taking a first look at his drawings you sometimes think, "Oh, that can't be right, that girl is all wrong looking" and then you look closer and realise that he's been drawing his model correctly, all right, he just caught her in a very odd angle or in a middle of a movement, out of equilibrium. "Le Maroc Pour Elle" is just like that, I keep thinking "The guy who made this, what was he thinking?" and then then I sniff a bit more and go "Hmmmm, interesting...". And I'll choose interesting over perfect any day.

So, what does "Le Maroc Pour Elle" smell like? In the top note there is orange blossoms, sawdust, bad breath and tooth decay. To be honest, it's nasty. But fortunately this only lasts a couple of minutes. Things soon settle into a jammy rose, jasmine and cedar accord. I'm also getting vanilla. At this time "Le Maroc Pour Elle" reminds me a lot of SL "Cuir Mauresque" and I've been trying them wrist by wrist to compare. They both pack a similar rose and jasmine but "Le Maroc Pour Elle" is rougher and has a much more powdery vanilla feel to it. Cuir Mauresque is fruitier, tighter, and leaning more towards leather and cinnamon.

During drydown "Le Maroc Pour Elle" turns into a different beast altogether. The flowers go away and the wooden notes, cedar and sandalwood, get more prominent. At times I feel cedar with a hint of orange and rose jam. At times I'm getting rice pudding, spiked with vanilla, covered with dark chocolate shavings.

Another interesting thing about Degas is that he never really completed his paintings. When looking closely there tend to be some areas that are perfect and other areas that are just sort of smudged over as he didn't bother about them. I find this rather endearing, since I'm just the same, the fun stuff gets done and other things I tend to forget about. I feel that "Le Maroc Pour Elle" also is a little bit like this. The notes dance around, at times they come together perfectly, at times something is sticking out a little bit to far but mostly everything just comes across as charming and fun.

I'm rating it 4 out of 5. This has been a character building experience for me that has broaden my views on what I like to wear and I always take an extra liking to scents that broaden my horizons.

All pictures are made by Degas.

"Cuir Mauresque" by Serge Lutens

I've had a horrible cold for a few days, literally not being able to smell a thing, but today I finally felt better and decided it was time for a new Serge. I closed my eyes and drew a sample from my "untried" little bag - and got Cuir Mauresque.  I remembered it was supposed to be a leather scent and happily dabbed some on. What I got was dead on "geléläppar" (= jelly lips in Swedish, depicted above), a very artificial tasting type of candy that I have a hard time believing that anyone likes. The taste can be described as an unholy marriage between raspberry jam and artificial cherry flavouring.

After a while the scent deepened and I could make out Mexican canela chocolate (chocolate mixed with cinnamon) as well. Then, while sniffing my wrist, thinking about how I could not understand the supposed greatness of Cuir Mauresque, I had what can best be described as an olfactory epiphany. It felt like, right there under my nose, all of a sudden the scent just turned upside down, revealing something completely different. While still smelling exactly like a few seconds ago it was now dead on leather. It was like the picture on the right, both a young woman and an old woman, but you can not see the both of them at the same time.

The leather scent felt dark, sensual and somehow fun, I think the knowledge of the "geleläppar" being there made me not being able to take things very seriously. I kept thinking about being a teenager and sneaking into a British gentlemens club after hours and get secretly drunk on their booze. The feeling you can imagine having when you and your friends put your feet up on the tables, getting all comfortable in the luxurious leather chairs, giggling and giggling. One of the things I regretfully never have done.

It's interesting when you try several scents from the same manufacturer how some notes are repeated in different settings. I think I felt something similar to the "geléläppar" in Bois de Fruits as well. But set in a cedar surrounding it felt much more relaxed and at ease.

I'm rating this one 3 out of 5, I love leather and possibly, one day, I might getting used to and starting to like the "geléläppar" note as well but for now it's just to weird.

Coeur d’Été by Miller Harris

Having kids, some days you'll be very very tired. There are lots of reason for that, they might have stomach ache, teething, nightmares or sometimes they just wake up for no reason at all and refuse to go asleep again for hours and hours. I recently had a day like that. I felt there was just no way I could bear putting on another Serge Lutens to try out, I wanted something light, subtle and undemanding. I thought about my stash, wasn't there a sample of Coeur d'Été by Miller Harris somewhere? According to the sales talk: "Lynn Harris (their perfumer) made that perfume during the early stages of her pregnancy when her already acute sense of smell became heightened". Great, I thought, that should deliver what I'm looking for.

I occasionally wore this perfume while I was pregnant myself last year, and liked it. I remember it smelling of chocolate, bananas and lilies of the valley, a strange mix but it worked for me. Now it felt different, I mostly smelled inky lilacs, anchored to a curiously heavy base I couldn't make out.

In the end I looked up the notes on the internet:
Top notes: cacao pod, mandarin orange, grapefruit, licorice and lemon
Middle notes: banana, white pear, cassia, lilac and heliotrope
Base notes: sandalwood, musk, benzoin and vanilla

The citrus and liquorice I can't detect at all. The other fruits and gourmet notes I can detect as I now know they are there, but this perfume does not stand out as a gourmand scent. The flowers are load and clear though. The other notes are near seamlessly integrated, creating a firm background for those heady florals.

Pregnancy is a funny thing, it completely distorts your sense of smell. I remember all of a sudden not being able to stand the smell of plastic bags and green herbs. It was so bad I forced my husband to keep our kitchen herbs (mint and Thai basil) out on the balcony, which nearly killed them. However, the notes in this perfume do makes sense. I had huge cravings for fruit, ice cream and chocolate. My guess is when creating this perfume, Lynn Harris put together all the things she could stand the smell of, just to see what would happen.

If you're looking for something light and delicate, this is not it. This scent reminds me of something both my mother and grandmother might wear. Makes sense to connect to earlier generations of women while you're pregnant, I suppose. It's a comforting and a bit old fashioned scent, but not very exciting. I'm rating it 3 out of 5.

Santal de Mysore by Serge Lutens

Go ahead, press the play button on the YouTube clip above. This blog post has a soundtrack.

I've been wearing "Santal de Mysore" for a couple of days now, and the best way to describe it  is like a Bach concerto, firmly built around a central theme that is indefinitely varied but never gets old.

The theme is, of course, sandalwood and the infinite variations are the way the other notes seamlessly intertwine, playing one off the other, managing to render the sandalwood in different lightings again and again. There is "woody sandalwood" flanked by oak chips and wine barrels. There is "spicy sandalwood", flanked by cumin and Indian curry spices. There is "gourmet sandalwood", flanked by liquorice, vanilla and good quality dark chocolate.

The wine barrel note I find especially interesting. My first impression of "Santal de Mysore" was, my god, this smells just like an Australian Chardonnay. They sometimes carry some pretty aggressive oak notes as they are not only aged in oak barrels but some producers have been known to throw in oak chips for that extra little oooomh (nothing you see on bottle labels though, this is a trade secret). As the perfume dries down the wine barrel note goes softer and after a few hours I've caught notes of softly oaked young Cabernet Sauvignon.
It's funny that the oak notes are so prominent for me in "Santal de Mysore", that is not officially supposed to carry oak, but I didn't catch any oak in Chene, that is supposed to be all about oak, just generic wood.

So, how do I feel about this one? It's not a classical "woody" fragrance to me, it's a sweet, dark and seductive fragrance. I find it  pleasant, but I think it will be even better in winter. I'm rating this a 4 out of 5 for now, but I might very well up that at Christmas.

Music: J.S. Bach Double Concerto for 2 violins in D minor, 1st movement. Solemn and a bit stiff arsed at fist listenings but once you start hearing how the two violins sometimes support each others, sometimes tease, a whole new landscape (soundscape?) opens up. Very much like the process I've had with "Mysore de Santal".