Bees. One of life's essentials. I'm thankful my garden in Seattle has swarms of bees in summer, gorging on flowers and filling the air with their hypnotizing buzzes. My mailman is not so happy with their sounds or numbers along the path to my front door, and he often employs the "drop (packages) and run" maneuver in high summer (used most often with snarling dogs, but in my case, with bees).
One of my favorite perfumes of all time was a honey fragrance: eccentric, bold, with a "I have no more f**ks to give!" character. Yes, it was Serge Lutens Miel de Bois (beloved by the most discerning, intelligent and delightful people on this earth...like Robin here at NST and myself). Miel de Bois has been reformulated, so Robin's review no longer has a perfume to match its words.
Still, I give any honey perfume a chance...as I continually search for old bottles of Miel de Bois.
Zoologist Bee* starts with the aroma of gingery orange marmalade, but that phase begins and ends quickly. I assume the scents bees come in contact with most are floral, and Bee's main attraction for me are its spooky/smoky, intensely scented flowers (in the case of Bee, the bee's environment trumps its products — honey, beeswax and royal jelly — as inspiration). There's a type of flower scent that I love above all others — an opulent, incense-y smell. In my garden there are three such flowers: broom, common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca L.) and Buddleja globosa (with a smoked-honey aroma). I think of their odors as spiritual, since they remind me of temple smells with flower offerings, burning incense and candles.
The first hint of "honey" in Bee arrives in late mid-development, when a potent beeswax note emerges and is joined by benzoin and what I'll call "honey musk" (vegetal/floral in character). The base notes of Bee have a pollen-powder aspect that slowly morphs into a honey-pastry finish (with tonka bean and vanilla adding a honey-incense-pudding accord). I enjoy Bee in all its phases.
Bee reminds me of another favorite perfume: L'Artisan Parfumeur Séville à l’Aube. If they were people, Bee and Séville à l’Aube could be brother and sister. If you asked Séville à l’Aube to take you on a tour of her city, she'd show you where to buy the best bikini, the most glorious toiletries, the tastiest gelato and espresso, the best vintage costume jewelry. She might even know where a bottle of original Miel de Bois could be found. Bee? He'd take you to the botanical gardens, on a house tour of a famous local author, to a Vivaldi concert at the cathedral, or to visit a good friend's farm where Anatolian shepherd dogs are bred (and puppies are waiting to be kissed). Séville à l’Aube is more feminine, stylish and 'heady'; Bee is boyish and down to earth. I'm happy spending time with both.
Zoologist Bee Extrait de Parfum is $195 for 60 ml or $55 for an 11 ml travel spray.
* Perfumer: Cristiano Canali; listed fragrance notes of orange, ginger, royal jelly accord, broom, heliotrope, mimosa, orange blossom, benzoin, labdanum, musks, sandalwood, tonka bean, vanilla.
Note: top image of a honeybee via Wikimedia Commons; middle image of Buddleja globosa by the author (notice the happy bee in the middle?)
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I’m more satisfied than ever with what I already own, it seems because new scents fall into one of three categories, the first being the “brother and sister” kind, as you phrased it, and I just don’t want any more variations on a theme, even if I like the theme (though I’ll take free samples when I can get them to spray on a card). The second are the chemical nightmares (I seem to be more sensitive to aroma chemicals these days, and what they are using in many recent releases – the quantity or type, if not both, is too irritating, other than spraying on a card and “taking a quick sniff”). The third includes those that don’t really smell like much of anything to me, and that includes niche; at first they come across as a muddle, then they are so weak I can’t smell much of anything.
BF: Agree in streamlining: I really need only one tobacco scent, one patchouli monster, etc.
I’ll be dead before all my perfume is gone…due to overcrowding by brother/sister, “cousin” scents throughout my perfume cabinet, all the noxious chemicals in my bloodstream, and ennui. HA!
I really enjoyed Bee when I tried it a couple weeks ago — and it had EXCELLENT staying power on my skin. Oh, I hope a travel spray will be come available…
J: It lasted all day on me, too. I don’t think those travel sprays ever get to the US? You can order from the Zoologist shopping site…not expensive if I remember shipping costs correctly.
I’ve ordered many to the US! There’s a shipping cost but that’s just an excuse to add more samples to your cart….
Thanks, Regina.
It only lasted a few hours on me.
I have some ennui going on today, too.
apsara: I applied it with wild abandon since I was staying home on the big day of testing…it’s lingering still on my shirt in the hamper.
After being disappointed by the last couple of Zoologist releases, Bee makes my heart soar. I get the most appealing “burnt” smell mid development. I wouldn’t have thought to compare Bee with Seville l’Aube, which is one of my favorite summer perfumes, but the last spray of my sample will be comparing the two.
ringthing: that burnt smell (burnt caramel, incense) is so nice! (I did not like the Squid AT ALL.
Oh, Squid was AWFUL. I was hoping for something like Commes des Garcons 2……*shudder*
Ugh agreed, Squid was a no go.
Bee is lovely, I wouldn’t mind a travel spray. But my holy grail is still Hiram Green Slowdive.
Cazaubon: that was a good one, too. I would love a soap in that fragrance.
Bee is ~nice. Like cute bumblebee nice. I do love the honey note but found this one to be just too docile and boring overall, and that is saying quite a bit since this mostly defines my personal library. In my opinion, Solstice Scents Sun-Warmed Honey and also their Smokewood Apiary are better at this recipe.
Oooh now I’m curious about those SS perfumes.
You very generously shared items with me during a previous freebiemeet so I would be glad to return the favor. 🙂 I can’t do samples on the SS as they are sealed oil rollerballs, but I would be willing to share a few drops of some of my other honey scents if you are interested–Viktoria Minya Eau de Hongrie, KK Pure Honey, or Demeter Honey. I also have Botrytis, which to me is the holy golden grail of honey scents, but I’m hoarding the last few sprays of that one!
That’s kind of you! I’d love to take you up on trying Eau de Hongrie. Can you email me my NST user name at gmail? Thanks!
Great review, Kevin. I’ve been trying to hold off on ordering any more samples for a while, but I really want to try Bee. I love honey perfumes too.
therabbitsflower: Thank you, and agree…my eternal battle of the sample orders…yes, no, never again, just this once, just one sample…on and on and on. !$$$!
I’m awaiting my sample of Bee dreaming of summer gardens: tiny metallic green sweat bees buzzing around gooseneck loosestrife, big bumblebees pollinating the tomatoes, a neighbor’s bee hives buzzing away in a poplar grove. Thanks for bringing such pleasant thoughts to mind on this cold winter day.
Kathryn: you’re welcome…we are dreaming the same things. Today should be close to 60 in Seattle so spring is in the air…for now, anyway.
Funny story, I was very happily enjoying the incredible beeswax note at lunch and noticed some bees flying about. My table mates were a little worried about the bees, but they’re just bees and I did the whole, if you leave them alone they won’t bother you, schpiel. Clearly luck likes to laugh. Next thing I know I take an oddly puffy/floral bite of curry (think super airy puff snack in texture) and it feels like I bit into a handful of Sichuan peppercorns on only the left side of my tongue. If you’ve ever wondered about accidentally swallowing a bee, I can firmly say it happens. XD
RaleighBlue: Poor bee! Poor you!