Mother’s Day is Sunday, May 13th — it will be here before you know it. Here are a few gift suggestions for the early birds:
From Cartier, a gift set in the Baiser Volé fragrance. 15 and 50 ml bottles of Eau de Parfum, $100 at Macy’s…
Posted by Robin on 20 Comments
Mother’s Day is Sunday, May 13th — it will be here before you know it. Here are a few gift suggestions for the early birds:
From Cartier, a gift set in the Baiser Volé fragrance. 15 and 50 ml bottles of Eau de Parfum, $100 at Macy’s…
Posted by Angela on 49 Comments
This review of Parfums de Nicolaï Maharanih was supposed to start like this: Some fragrances are the life of the party. They’re attractive, engaging, and you can’t help but gravitate toward them, even if they’re not the sort of people you choose to have in your life all the time.
Then, surveying other reviews, I discovered that many people don’t see Maharanih as a charming diva at all, but as a grating boor. So I’ve changed the angle on this review. Let me start again:
Parfums de Nicolaï Maharanih is like Cher bedecked in Bob Mackie finery. Whether you admire her beauty and audacity, or think she looks like a Trojan drag queen at a disco, you’re sure to have an opinion…
Posted by Erin on 64 Comments
I have always liked mimosa in fragrances. Rather, I should clarify: I have always liked Acacia farnesiana (cassie) and/or scents with heliotropin. The term “mimosa” is a bit of a moving target, even in botany, as there are about 400 species or cultivars of plants under this genus, mostly with pink or mauve flowers, in addition to many other shrubs or trees that produce poofy, cartoonish blossoms and were historically lumped in under the name by the public — silk tree being an example. The sweet, warm, powdery smell we encounter in perfumery, with its facets of almond, honey, violet, craft paste and fresh cucumber, comes from distillation of the soft, feathery yellow petal clusters of the acacia species that most of us in the West know as mimosa flowers. One of my most vivid and happy memories of visits to France is the bushels of mimosa branches tossed out during “La Bataille de Fleurs” or flower parade during the Carnaval de Nice, which winds its way along what must be one of the world’s most beautiful thoroughfares, the Promenade des Anglais.
For all its cheerful straight-forwardness, mimosa appears to be a hard note to use in perfume. There are very few credible soliflores and many mainstream fragrances with a strong mimosa presence come off as airheaded and shampoo-like. With the IFRA restrictions on heliotropin, it has become even more difficult, if not impossible, to base a fragrance around the flower. Looking to include perfumes with some availability in this list, I found that almost all the mimosa fragrances I’d enjoyed at the beginning of my perfume education in the mid-noughties were discontinued or reformulated. Caron Farnesiana, long the great classic of mimosa perfumes, has gone through so many versions that it is hard to keep track of them all…
Posted by Robin on 18 Comments
French niche line Parfums de Nicolaï has launched L’Eau Chic, a new unisex fragrance:
Add a little freshness to such a hot world…
Posted by Erin on 140 Comments
Blech. Despite being born a May baby, I have never been a fan of spring. I’m sure it’s different in the other parts of the world, but every year, people above the 39th parallel in Europe and North America stand on street corners at this time of year, leaning at a 75 degree angle into gusting drizzle, and insist: “It wasn’t like this last year!” Trust me, it was. The mud, the wind, the Easter snow or hailstorm, the false hope of that one giddy day near April Fool’s when the sun shone and the warm breezes blew, like in a laundry detergent commercial, before the rain and gray chill returned — it all happened last year. I am not a pessimist. It is merely that I believe in the motto of mothers everywhere: let’s not get worked up here. Crazed displays of Birkenstock sandals and patio furniture will only end in tears. I support measured celebrations of spring’s small pleasures. For one, it is ramp season. Perhaps you have received your tax return. The road salt has melted away and you can go to 2D movies without being subjected to aliens, robots or robotic aliens. And it is time for some of your freshest, prettiest, newest fragrances to grace the air.
Composing a Top 10 for this most uncertain of seasons, I have tried not to dwell on lost favorites or the flood of recent scents I’ve missed. Jean Patou Vacances, Gobin-Daudé Sève Exquise, and L’Artisan Jacinthe des Bois are all gone and it somehow felt irresponsible to include them in the list. I have vintage samples of the many spring classics that have been damaged or ruined by reformulation — Balmain Vent Vert, Caron Violette Précieuse, the silver fluidity of Diorissimo, the mysterious smoky-green of Worth Je Reviens, the original Dior Fahrenheit’s honeysuckle-and-wet-blacktop — and I use them sparingly and despairingly. I have not tried MDCI Un Coeur en Mai, Byredo La Tulipe, ElizabethW Magnolia or CB I Hate Perfume Wild Pansy and am trying to convince myself that I don’t need to do so. With no further excuses, my Top 10 of Spring…