Clinique Aromatics in White

  
First things first, the original Aromatics Elixir from Clinique is a fragrance I've been wearing for around thirty years now, if I were to ever have a "signature fragrance", Aromatics would be it.  So, when Aromatics in White was released, I was intrigued.  

It is difficult for me to do a direct comparison, as the original is just still a little too strong for me to wear comfortably at the moment, so I haven't smelled it in the best part of a year now, but Aromatics in White is far more of a wearable proposition under the (parosmic) circumstances.

A lightened - by emphasising the rose - and brightened - by the addition of violet leaves and orange blossom - version of Aromatics, this is very much a whisper in a quiet room rather than the SHOUTING THROUGH A MEGAPHONE IN A LIBRARY stance of the punchy spices and funky patchouli of the original. I suspect a lot of people won't like it for that.  For me, the lightness and the brightness has simply lifted the facets of the original that I couldn't really notice under the funky spiciness -  I genuinely had never noticed the rose in the original, and still have trouble picking it out now even thought I've read a thousand reviews that have mentioned it - to the fore, without turning it into a watery and weak "fresh" version, which is all to the good as far as I am concerned.

I can smell white roses and orange blossom up top, and there are some slightly smokey woods beneath, but in between there are musks galore, making this a skin scent first and foremost - no one will run away screaming in terror when you wear this (more's the pity) - but the longevity is good, and it is ladylike without being wishy washy or overly sweet.  They haven't drowned it in vanilla, either, for which I shall be eternally grateful.  It does, actually, remind me of AE, but in a fuzzy, milky, distant sort of way, like snuggling into a cardigan, or a cashmere scarf that was once dowsed in the original, and you're now left with the ghost of fragrance past.  This isn't to damn it with faint praise, though it may sound it, but there's enough of the original in the formula to evoke memories of Aromatics proper, making Aromatics in White a fair partner to have alongside.

Is it a classic like the original?  Possibly not, whilst there's still nothing available on the high street that smells like Aromatics Elixir,  and though Aromatics in White doesn't smell like absolutely everything else, it's familiar and friendly without ever being unconventional.  I like it and whilst I can't wear Aromatics Elixir, this is a good replacement for it.  But will I love Aromatics in White in 30 years?  Only time will tell ...

The Fine Print: PR Sample

The Even Finer Print: We're not featuring full fragrance reviews on Get Lippie at the moment owing to illness - please see The Parosmia Diaries for more.


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Maison Francis Kurkdjian - Oud Satin Mood

I should probably preface this review with two facts: the first is that Oud Silk Mood by Francis Kurkdjian is one of my all-time favourite fragrances of all-time and this review will potentially be coloured by that, and secondly it must be made known that I am still currently parosmic  and as a result I'm not sure how much use a review written by someone with a distorted/lessened sense of smell will actually be, but I'm jolly well going to write one about this anyway.

Almost two years ago, I wrote a rather prickly review of Oud Silk Mood by Francis Kurkdjian, one in which I loved the fragrance, but had got rather tired of perfume bloggers attitudes towards oud as an ingredient in perfume.  Fast forward to now, and I'm rather over the cynical "We need middle eastern clients! Let's make an oud!" fad in perfumery myself to be honest, but I still do love an oud when it is well done.

When Francis Kurkdjian released his initial oud fragrance in 2012, there wasn't an oud fragrance quite like it.  He'd taken a thick, medicinal, traditionally "heavy" (or funky, or gross, depending on your point of view) ingredient, and turned it into a lightly shimmering phosphorescent haze of beauty.  His original Oud was still odd, but it was acceptable, even pretty, and infinitely wearable, even for the oud-phobic.

In 2013, Kurkdjian released the Oud Moods collection, featuring oud fragrances as inspired by fabrics, namely Silk, Cashmere and Velvet.  All showcased oud as the major ingredient, but featured another scent alongside to recreate the sensous feeling of fabrics on skin.  As someone with synaesthesia, which often took the form of textures and fabrics (iris, for example, was grey cashmere) in the past, this collection really appealed to me.  Cashmere and Velvet featured labdanum and cinnamon respectively, and Silk Mood was roses.  Jammy, fruity, lush and deep, deep red roses, which were displayed atop a splintery bed of shimmering, yet still somehow slightly dusty oud.  It's a perfume I reach for whenever I want to wear roses, but not the roses your grandmothers would wear, and it's probably in my top five fragrances of all time.

However, since I became parosmic, roses have become a tricky ingredient for me, sometimes smelling burned, sometimes papery, sometimes just flat and unpleasant, and so I have been reaching for Silk Mood less and less recently, as I couldn't predict on any given day how I'd be able to perceive the smell.  Life with parosmia is often hugely surreal and unpredictable, and so my fragrance choices have been by necessity been more limited over the last twelve months, in order to avoid nausea. However, when I heard that the new addition to the Oud Mood range was going to feature violets alongside the roses, I let out a little whoop of joy, for, after a trip to the Osmotheque in Paris last year, I know that violets are one of the few smells that for me are never distorted, and so I looked forward to smelling Oud Satin Mood very much indeed.

Oud Satin Mood opens with candied violets over a powdery soft vanilla, which is both sweet and floral. Until the rose turns turns up in the midsection it is rather soft and quiet, but the dark roses appear here to add both richness, and more vibrancy to the scent.  Where Oud Silk Mood is jammy and voluptuous, Satin Mood is powdery and ladylike, the soigné Grace Kelly to Silk's rather blousy Jayne Mansfield.   At the end, which takes a good long while to arrive at, there is a warm and comforting hug of benzoin mixed with the vanilla, which stays close to the skin, but doesn't get cloying. Throughout wear, there is a shimmer of oud, which adds mystery, alongside both depth and an unexpected gauziness, alongside a certain playfulness to the scent. But the oud itself never overpowers the other ingredients as it does is many other formulas, happily remaining a background player at all times.  It is quieter than Silk Mood, less prone to blooming in the heat, and stays closer to the skin. Even my damaged nose can still pick up the scent 8-10 hours after application, so wear-time is extensive.

Thanks to the roses no longer being central in this iteration of Oud Mood, this, along with the addition of ionones from the violet accord, means that they no longer seem burned or papery to my nose, making this a more pleasurable wear for me than Silk Mood at present.  As an aside: it seems that ionones have the simplest molecular structure of many other perfume ingredients, and so may require fewer functioning receptors available in the nose in order to be able to smell them (this is a theme I'll be returning to in a later blog post, however), and so even people with a distorted or hugely lessened sense of smell might be able to at least faintly pick up the scent of violets where previously it was thought they couldn't smell, or distinguish much at all*.

Oud Satin Mood is an eau de parfum rather than an extrait de parfum, and this is reflected in the price, which will be £165 when the fragrance is released on May 1st, rather than the £275 that the rest of the Oud Mood collection sells for. The packaging is also slightly different, a black box rather than the blue of the rest of the range, and the gold fascia on the bottle is no longer there, but it is good news for purses, at least!

I don't mind admitting that a few happy tears were shed on initially smelling this fragrance. So few things smell "right", much less beautiful, at the moment that having unexpected access back into the world of both one of my favourite fragrances and one of my favourite perfumers has been a very happy event indeed.  I can no longer smell in as near as much detail as I used to (though things improve almost every day at present), so if this review - my first full fragrance review in almost twelve months - seems thin on descriptions, I can only apologise. In any event Oud Satin Mood is a glorious addition to the Oud Mood collection, however badly your nose might be brain-damaged.

* Info from The Monell Centre in a conversation via Twitter.

The Fine Print: PR Sample

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New Year, Old Me

By Tindara:

Happy New Year! If you’re anything like me you will be utterly bored with all the "New Year New Me" nonsense and be wanting to shove anything "detoxing" up the jacksie with a rolling pin. At least, I think that’s what they’re recommending; I tend to switch off after someone mentions a detox. Instead, I’ve decided to do the exact opposite and track down some of my old, and hopefully classic, beauty and fragrance favourites; Thierry Mugler’s Angel,  Mac Spice lip pencil, and Chanel’s Rouge Noir.

I have been longing to try Angel again, ever since I realised it’s in the Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez top ten Classic Fragrances. I felt simultaneously very pleased with myself that it was my signature scent for years, and irritated that I had pretentiously let it go when it became ubiquitous and much copied. Well I started my first Angel day off in a haze of gourmand nostalgia, but after a couple of hours the spicier notes came through and I fell in love with it all over again, more than twenty years later. I had remembered it as a sweet but fresh fragrance with a certain something unusual about it. Maybe that was where I was at with my perfume appreciation at that stage; I certainly feel I have learnt a lot since, not least due to hanging around with other fumeheads and lippie-aficionados. 

This is an amazing scent – the fresh zesty peel notes that appear after the initial sweetness give way and turn into a deep spiciness with a hint of church incense and patchouli. It’s like wandering into a shop that sells crystals and tarot cards whilst wearing a diamond tiara. I suppose it’s no coincidence that I wore this in my grungiest years, but I was a rubbish grebo; my standard issue German army boots were contrasted with little black dresses and deep red lipstick. I always wanted that touch of glamour. Angel now feels elegant and sparkly but with an earthy depth that’s just perfect. I think it might be my new [old] favourite.

I'm sure you’re all familiar with Mac Spice and all its dupes. Like Angel, it was launched in the nineties and quickly gained cult status as the perfect nude shade. It’s a long time since I wore it, or even lip liner at all; I tend to just go straight for the bullet these days. In red, OBVS, as the children say. But the odd cool neutral has made it into my everyday routine so I thought I’d give it another go. Pixiwoo in particular are lip liner devotees and they inspired me to get back on point, so to speak. 

Unable to get hold of a Mac Spice when I needed it, though, I hunted out a Bourjois dupe recommended by them, Crayon Contour Des Lèvres in 12 Facétieuse. It is a perfect nude, and I’d forgotten how great a toffee coloured lip liner can be at giving you a brilliant bee-stung pout. I used to push the edge to the very limit, (not over though, never over…) filling from the outside in, then topping with some lip balm. More recently, I've been using Laura Mercier Lip Glacé in Blush on top, which looks great with a smudgy smoky eye. I've now resurrected the few lip liners I have and am using them more and more as a result. They’re really long lasting and I love the fact that you can use them as a stain of colour not having to reapply as much throughout the day.

I was so excited when I finally got hold of some Chanel Rouge Noir back in the day – I had to go on a waiting list for it. Crazy, but we all wanted the shade that Uma Thurman wore in Pulp Fiction. I had to have it. It also reminded me of Shirley MacLaine in the 1988 film Madame Sousatzka. I was a strange teenager; there was something about the strands of beads, short dark nails and beautiful decorative fabrics in her costume that I adored. So as soon as the short dark nail thing happened I was there, and I don’t think it’s ever really gone away for me. 

I haven’t worn actual Rouge Noir for years though, until my friend got me some as a present a few months back. I still really love the rich bloody-black sheen of it, I couldn't stop looking at my hands. I feel like it goes with anything too, hold it against denim or black lace and it will look fantastic. It is straight up elegance with a touch of bohemian gothic and suits everyone in my opinion. My old [young] self wasn't so bad really; quite a stylish girl. 

What are your old favourites?

The Fine Print: Angel starts at £48, Mac Lip Pencils are £12.50, Bourjois Crayon Contour Des Lèvres are £5.49, Chanel Rouge Nail Polish is £18. All were bought by me, except the Chanel Rouge Noir which was gift from a friend.

The Even Finer Print: We're not featuring full fragrance reviews on Get Lippie at the moment owing to illness - please see The Parosmia Diaries for more.


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We Want the Funk: Ripe and Ready Perfumes for a Heatwave

By Laurin

A couple of weeks ago, I noticed that the predicted highs in my hometown of Mobile, Alabama and London were exactly the same – 29 degrees Celsius. The local press in Mobile referred to this turn of events as “an unseasonable autumn-like chill”. Meanwhile, in London, the headlines read “OMG HEATWAVE APOCALYPSE PREPARE A VIRGIN SACRIFICE TO APPEASE THE SUN GODS!”

In Mobile, we deal with the heat by hopping from air-conditioned house to air-conditioned car, and if we’re lucky, into backyard swimming pools. In London, our primary extreme-weather coping strategies are outrageous hyperbole and whinging. It’s one of the many ways in which I’m proud to be British.

Unfortunately, Tube travel and lack of air-conditioned buildings can take its toll on the most stringent of personal hygiene regimes. I experienced this last week as I was leaving work on an especially humid day and suddenly realised I had experienced a regrettable deodorant malfunction. Fortunately, I had a bottle of Francis Kurkdjian’s Absolue Pour Le Soir tucked away on my desk, so I was able to style out the funk with lashings of sweet honey and dirty knickers. That smell? Yeah, that’s me. What of it?

This, then is my plea to you: when the heat is on, be a lover not a fighter. Save the sunny citruses for your gin and tonic. They’ll evaporate within hours during hot weather anyway. Instead, reach for one of these out and proud animalic fragrances:

 Serge Lutens Mucs Koublai Khan, £79 for 50ml at Fenwicks of Bond Street. I can’t find it online, so you’ll just have to come to London.

This is what Frederic Malle’s Musc Ravageur would have been if it had been raised by hyenas in the jungle (note to self: find out if hyenas live in jungles; do hyenas prefer orientals to chypres?). Instead of the come-hither bedroom eyes, we have the flasher on the street corner in the stained trenchcoat. But if you’d just get past that, you’d see he’s a really nice person, okay? And as it turns out, he is. Though the unwashed combination of civet, musk and caraway is a bit seedy at first, the composition is beautifully softened out with amber, rose, patchouli and vanilla. Highly wearable, though still not suitable for a blind buy.

Le Labo Oud 27, from £45 for 15ml at http://lelabofragrances.com/uk_en/

There is no way to pretty this up: this is the filthiest porno-perfume that ever was. Although the official notes are oud, civet, cedar, patchouli, ambergris and rose (so, noble rot, cat bum, whale vomit and FLOWERS), whatever, this fragrance ain’t never seen the inside of Jane Packer in its life. Oud 27 will never turn up on your doorstep bearing a bouquet, but if you ask it nicely, it just might let you see what’s in the black bag at the bottom of the closet. Wear with a fur coat and crotchless knickers.

Robert Piguet Fracas, £95 for 50ml at www.lessenteurs.com

A big stinking heatwave calls for a big stinking flower. Creator Germaine Cellier was something of an enfant terrible of the 1940’s perfume world. In Barbara Herman’s book “Scent and Subversion”, we are told that Cellier’s first fragrance for Robert Piguet, Bandit, was inspired by the scent of models changing their underwear during fashion shows. Had I read that about her other masterpiece Fracas, I’d believe that as well. This is the Vagina Dentata of tuberoses: all soft, inviting flash with a deadly bite. Fracas is tuberose shorn of its angular, camphorous top note and instead given bombastic T&A with jasmine, rose, carnation, ripe peach and even riper musk. Wear this for taking a lover back to your web for the first (and maybe last) time.

Frederic Malle Le Parfum de Therese, from £80 for 30ml at www.lessenteurs.com

Michel Roudnitska, son of Le Parfum de Therese’s creator Edmond called this “the masterpiece of my father”. Considering that he was speaking of the man who created Rochas Femme, Diorella and Eau Savage, this is high praise indeed. Exclusively worn by Roudnitska’s wife Therese for nearly fifty years, it was only released after his death in 2000, when Frederic Malle persuaded Therese to allow him to publish it as part of his Editions de Parfums line. I hesitate to describe this as “animalic”, for it is actually a placid, watery fruit accord that preceded the fresh aquatic fragrances of the 90’s by over forty years. But laid over the plum, melon, mandarin and vetiver that forms the heart of this quietly confident work is a note of leather that transforms it from the coldly beautiful to something altogether more warm and intimate. I have no idea what the Roudnitska’s marriage was like, but when I smell the perfume he made for her, I can only imagine that this was a man who deeply loved and understood his wife. It manages to be dark and light and human and ethereal all at the same time, and I would wear it any day over the hundreds of candyfloss concoctions proclaiming themselves the essence of the eternal feminine. Wear this when you have nothing to prove to anyone.

Better You Magnesium Oil, £9.29 for 100ml at www.amazon.co.uk

Not a perfume, but a neat trick if you’d rather funk by choice than out of necessity. A quick slick of this after a shower and before deodorant somehow seems to neutralise body odour on hot days. I have tested this extensively on the Victoria Line in July and it never once failed me. You're welcome.

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Miller Harris Summer Collection - Le Petit Grain, Tangerine Vert and Citron Citron

The Team recently popped along to the Miller Harris Boutique in Belgravia, to see their beautiful new "Symphony of Colour" summer collaboration with Cyril Destrade.  A re-release of three of their well-known citrus-based fragrances, with new limited edition water-coloured packaging, here's the team's thoughts on the fragrances themselves.

Petit Grain by Tindara

Some of you may have noticed I have an unusual name. It’s Sicilian, and those who know me best, know I never stop blathering on about this. Sorry and all that, but being an inbetweenie Anglo-Italian affects EVERYTHING. Look at me with my lapsed Catholic rusty bi-lingualism! No I’m not called Tandoori or Tindra, that’s an IKEA flooring. Yes, my dad was a chef and my mum is a seamstress. What of it? 

... I’m meant to be talking about perfume aren’t I? It all links up, honest. I spent every summer as a child in the Sicilian countryside on the north-eastern coast near the city of Messina with the Aeolian islands in view. My grandparents had fig, bergamot, lemon and orange trees, trails of verbena led to the olive groves that were punctuated by prickly pear cacti. I am really lucky that this was my summer playground, and nothing takes me back to it like perfume.

Le Petit Grain, like a lot of citrus based scents, has a particular resonance. First it’s a fresh splash of lemon and bergamot but with something herby and warm that gives it a bit more substance and spice. Like smelling the citrons on my nonna’s kitchen table, whilst the woody rosemary branches are hanging all around us. So I’m ambling down the road and this stuff is sparkling away like a summer drink with citrus and herbs and then this subsides and Mr Vetivert and Mrs Patchouli come for a visit, and they leave me with a heart of oaky wax reminiscent of the finish to Serge Luten’s Ambre Sultan. I really like this, as you can probably tell. My only disappointment with it is that it doesn’t last well on me. But this does happen with citrus scents and cologne and the only answer is to apply more frequently. I think for this one it might be worth it.

Tangerine Vert - by Get Lippie

Bearing a strong resemblence to Hermes' Orange Vert (one of my all time favourite scents), Miller Harris' Tangerine Vert starts in with a startlingly photo-real blast of tangerine peel, which almost verges into an extremely clean and lively-bright grapefruit, but this is backed up with the smell of bright green crushed leaves, that eventually softens into a blend of cedar and musks.  It's bright, and pretty (and hugely unisex in appeal), and uplifts the spirits gorgeously.   It's a little spiky, and rather on the lively side, but that's just what summer scents need, if you ask me.  It won't last longer than the average spell of British summer sunshine, but that just means you need to reapply regularly.  I've suffered from a spell of anosmia recently, and this has been one of the few fragrances to cut through my smell-less world, so for that, I shall be eternally grateful.

Citron Citron - by Luke

I was assigned Citron Citron and, as I have had a bit of a lament recently about not owning a real citrus scent this was a good choice.

Citron Citron is one of the original Miller Harris fragrances, and the scent is a really gentle, woody spicy citrus. Very lemony, it has lime, and orange in there too. All the citrus bases are well and truly covered. This fragrance has the same sensation of lying in long grass in the summertime surrounded by very ripe citrus trees, and a cold glass of martini. We’ve all been there.

It is a very herby smelling citrus as it has basil, which is very pleasantly perceptible, alongside mint. It's not too warm, being a little on the sweet side, and it's not too zingy as a result, it dries down to an almost powdery scent. I like it a lot.

Being a citrus scent, it really doesn’t last on my skin for very long, so was I bitterly (see what I did there) disappointed. This was surprising to me, especially as it’s an eau de parfum formulation. However, I realised that spritzing this on my clothes instead seemed to make it’s ‘waft’ power somewhat stronger, and it has lasted longer as a result.

Absolutely perfect for the current clammy weather, this will no doubt cut right through any of that beautifully.  

***

The limited edition Symphony of Scent collection is available in 50ml bottles from Miller Harris at £65 a pop.

The Fine Print: PR Samples

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Nuxe Prodigieux le Parfum and Parfum Divin de Caudalie

 By Get Lippie

Those two great French skincare competitors, Nuxe and Caudalie, have both brought out perfume versions of their cult body oil products this summer, and I managed to get my hands on both so I could compare and contrast each of them.

Nuxe is probably the cult body oil product in the UK, and this summer, the iconic rectangular bottle has been re-issued with a cute limited edition design,  which I surprisingly rather like.  The perfume bottle is a flat oblong with a bronzed ombre effect over.  It looks rather staid in comparison to the limited edition bottle though, I think!  

The scent is warm, redolent of jasmine and sunshine, with a small hit of coconut. It actually has a rather sunscreen-y scent, instantly transporting you to a beach and the tropical cocktail of your choice.  On first spraying, it is intensely heady and rather strong-seeming, but this headiness wears off rather quickly, just leaving a floral-musk skin scent behind, which is rather nuzzly and lovely.  It's very discreet in wear, you're not going to offend any perfume-phobics in the office in this one.  

In comparison with the scent of the oil itself, it holds up very well indeed - on first sniff, they're practically identical - the oil has a more rounded profile, and because of the oil base it's less sharp-seeming than the parfum, which feels a little thinner than the original formulation.  That said the two are to all intents completely indistinguishable from each other.  Lasting power for the fragrance, even though it's a parfum formulation, is around 4-6 hours, but as it wears very close to the skin, sometimes you'll have to hunt for the scent whilst you're wearing it.  Nuxe Prodigieux le Parfum costs £43 for 50mls.

Packaging is, for me, a very important part of any product, and hands down the Caudalie bottles win this particular context.  Not only is the circular shape of the oil bottle easier to handle (I struggle with the flat rectangle of the Nuxe, owing to having very small hands, and the bottle is too wide for me to grip properly in use), but the metallic ombre effect on the Parfum Divin bottle is quite, quite lovely.  I also like the wooden lids, which add just a little extra touch of luxury and texture to the overall presentation.

Divine oil is just a couple of years old, but has spawned a couple of offshoot products already - a body scrub, and Divine Legs, which is a lightly tinted body moisturiser - and the perfume is a natural extension.  A lighter, fresher, fragrance than the Nuxe Prodigieux. In comparison, Parfum Divin has an almost cucumber-y ozonic scent, atop a base of blonde woods, cedar and white flowers.  I can catch a hint of jasmine here, but it's far less punchy than in the Nuxe. It dries down to a more woody skin-scent than the Nuxe, but they are both somewhat on the discreet side, and dry down to a gentle inoffensiveness.

Whilst less initially heady than the Nuxe fragrance, it's actually a slightly more sophisticated scent overall, being more redolent of a spa than a sunscreen,  but it does still manage to smell almost exactly like the original product, in the same way.  Again, the fragrance is a little sharper, and a little fresher than the oil, but this is down to the formulation, as an oil fragrance will always seem a little "fatter" to the nose, than an alcohol-based spray. The lasting power for both fragrances is about the same. Parfum Divin de Caudalie will be available for £39 for 50ml when it launches shortly.  There's a candle version of the fragrance too, which really, really, really needs to join my candle collection, tbh.

So, do you need both fragrances?  Probably not, to be honest.  Both the fragrances are wonderful companions to their respective oils, being respectful recreations of the originals, and they're both wonderful for layering over the oils for a little extra oomph (the oils will anchor the fragrances to your skin, making them last longer), but which one you prefer will depend on which oil you have a preference for.  I can't actually pick a winner - the Nuxe is a cult product for a reason, it smells great, and is instantly evocative, but, the Caudalie is sophisticated, and (for me) a better bottle.  Which one do you prefer?

The Fine Print: PR Samples.  But I'm ordering a candle, oh yes.  No, I am NOT obsessed.
 
This post: Nuxe Prodigieux le Parfum and Parfum Divin de Caudalie originated at: Get Lippie All rights reserved. If you are not reading this post at Get Lippie, then this content has been stolen by a scraper

Spring Time Colour!

By Luke 

Now I don’t know about you, but I am a bit over the whole grey windy wet weather we seem to be experiencing at the minute.  It affects your mood, your energy levels, and not to mention your enjoyment of just about anything worth doing.

So, in anticipation of the bright sunshine, and frivolity and frolics of the spring time, let’s have a look at some really lovely bits that are so colourful, Spring may come that bit earlier.... at least to your dressing table.

Week one!

Greens shoots! With the garden looking like its making an appearance with all sorts of springtime flowers shooting up, this is the perfect combination of spring sights and smells to get you in the mood for the new season.

CK One Summer

Nothing says summer like crushed sugar and Tequila, and this has it all in there! CK One do a summer fragrance every year, and I am always a bit in love with them, Not least for the bottles alone! This years is a supernatural looking ombre of green and blue that sort of moves around, Magic, and smells fine too. Available from April 2nd, £32 for 100ml.

L’occitane Zesty Lime

With its famous Shea Butter formula, mixed brilliantly together with a very zingy Lime fragrance this body cream will definitely put you in mind of sunnier climes. This does smell amazing! And the lome scent lasts for a little while too.A great mood lifter.  L’Occitane Zesty Lime Shea Butter Body Creme, available now £18.

Van Cleef & Arpels Aqua Oriens

Another annual favourite of mine for the sunny season. If the bottle alone isn’t enough to cheer you up with its glorious imitation of an actual ring by Van Cleef & Arpels (yes, I have tried the lid on my finger and felt like a fairy princess), then the scent will definitely inspire you. Light and fruity, with essence of pear, amber and honeysuckle, it’s a super girly scent with a bit of class. I adore this fragrance on account of it being so easy to wear, light, and lasts!  5oml EDT £54, available nationwide.

Heavy Metal Glitter Eyeliner by Urban Decay in Spandex

I am a big fan of the more extreme end of colour as far makeup is concerned, and Urban Decay always have it nailed.Their Glitter liners are some of the longest lasting, non flake off formulas I have used.  Use them as is, or over aneyeshadow to really get some sparkle. The clear fluid dries quickly and doesn’t crease either so very much a partyingfave. The Spandex has flecks of petrol blue and green through it, so would be amazing on brown eyes! £13 available from Debenhams and House of Fraser stores.

Nasomatto Black Afgano: Chasing the Dragon

By Laurin

One of my favourite customers of recent weeks was a dapper young gentleman who had clearly just been bitten by the perfume bug. He was high on vetiver and giddy with tales from the Le Labo counter. I was immediately jealous of him in the same way that I'm jealous of people who have never watched Six Feet Under - that is, I wanted to throw my arms around him and shout, "WELCOME TO MY WORLD YOU HAVE SO MUCH TO LOOK FORWARD TO SORRY ABOUT YOUR WALLET!"

Now, I'm no psychologist, but I know a case of Acute Fragrance Psychosis when I see one. It's a condition that has afflicted many who have trod through the niche perfume path on the quest for fragrance Zen. Symptoms may include compulsive spending, an excessive proliferation of tiny glass vials about one's person, waxing lyrical about Portrait of a Lady, an overwhelming desire to loiter at the Guerlain counter, an obsession with pre-WWII leathers, vivid dreams in which Andy Tauer takes you to the cinema for a screening of Titanic (and in the dream he's like, your dad) and sudden, unexplained snobbery towards "department store brands".

Acute Fragrance Psychosis can end in one of two ways: you either keep chasing the dragon of that first extraordinary hit and end up committed (to the poorhouse) or you realise one day that you cannot possess all the things and you learn to be more judicious with your purchases, buying only what you truly love. Fortunately, I took the latter path, but my newfound enlightenment came with a price. Specifically, it came with the price of £108 for 30ml. Sit down, you guys. We need to talk. We need to talk about Buyer's Remorse.

Nasomatto's Black Afgano ticks all the boxes for a case of serious fragrant regret: it's over-hyped, overpriced and damn near impossible to find. I can think of at least five places in the UK where you can buy Nasomatto fragrances, but there's always a tell-tale gap on the shelf where Black Afgano should be. Once, I tried to smell it at Selfridges and was told they didn't even have the tester. It's basically the Keyser Soze of perfume.

What's so special about it? In a nutshell, it's supposed to smell of hashish. When it was created by Alessandro Gualtieri back in 2009, there were rumours that he’d had Afghani hashish smuggled to his Dutch laboratory in order to faithfully recreate its smell for his latest project. Some even say that the dark brown juice itself even contains a bit of the stuff. The Nasomatto website is quiet on the subject, revealing only that the fragrance “aims to evoke the best quality Hashish. It is the result of a quest to arouse the effects of temporary bliss.” Which is funny, because “bliss” is exactly how I would describe traipsing up and down Oxford Street on a Saturday in December, trying to get a whiff of the stuff as you slowly marinate in your own sweat under layers of wool and cashmere.
If you are lucky enough to get your sticky mitts on a bottle, what awaits you? Well, my main experience of cannabis is via an ex who liked to mix it into Cadbury’s chocolate mousse pots, so I spent my early 20’s convinced that it smelled and tasted exactly like Flake. Since then I’ve had the benefit of living in Brixton for over seven years, where a Local Businessman in a purple satin wolf jacket generously flogs his wares to the public from his office just outside the KFC. So I feel qualified to confirm that yes, for about 30 seconds, Black Afgano smells like sweet, syrupy Dairy Milk  cannabis intertwined with parched labdanum. After that initial high, it puts on its slippers and dressing gown and mellows out into a languid stretch of warm honey, incense, a touch of medicinal oud and sweet puffs of pipe tobacco. On my skin, this lasts for about 6 hours before the fragrance finally nods off for the evening into a happy, drooling slumber of sandalwood and nutty coffee. This is an extrait de parfum, so be prepared to spend the entire day with it. Overall, I get about sixteen hours of wear out of it.

Actually, I’m making it sound pretty good. And it is pretty good. So what is your damage, Heather?  Simply put, £108 for 30ml is stupid, stupid money for what is essentially a nice Oriental with a distressed wooden cap that looks like a parody of something you’d find on Etsy. I finally tracked down a bottle at a lovely branch of the Avery Fine Perfumery (http://averyfineperfumery.com/) while in New Orleans with my mother and sister. They had one left (of course). I hesitated for a moment, and then handed over my credit card. Later that week as I was packing my suitcase to return to London, I caught sight of the box and felt sick. There it was, a $200 statement of one-upmanship in a tasteful bottle that would have its fifteen seconds of fame on Instagram before being consigned to the top of my dresser and worn once a month. Maybe twice if I was feeling guilty. I wedged it in my bag next to the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups an eight-pack of socks from Target and thought, “I am powerless over perfume, and my obsession has become unmanageable.” Acceptance, after all, is the first step towards enlightenment.
Black Afgano is available at Space NK (http://uk.spacenk.com/black-afgano/MUK200005701.html), Roullier White (http://www.roullierwhite.com/nasomatto---black-afgano---extrait-de-parfum-30ml-3742-p.asp) and Bloom (https://bloomperfume.co.uk/products/perfumes/27). Or not.

Not buying it? Here are three perfumes you could try instead, for a lot less money:

Maison Francis Kurkdjian Absolue Pour Le Soir (http://shop.lessenteurs.com/p/4926/Absolue-Pour-le-Soir-EDP-70ml), £115. Okay, I lied about the “a lot less money” thing. But you get 70ml for your money, and smells like baklava being smuggled in a dirty thong. Guaranteed to make you blush.

Serge Luten Chergui (http://www.escentual.com/sergelutens17/), £69. The master of Orientals brings us his take on honey and tobacco, with a refreshingly spearminty top note of hay. I want to cheer when I put it on: “Cher-GUI! Cher-GUI!”

Yves Saint Laurent Opium (http://www.debenhams.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servlet/prod_10701_10001_123064930499_-1), £69. The original narcotic perfume. Let’s get hiii-iiiigh, retro-style!

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Parfumerie Générale Tubéreuse Couture 17

By Laurin

Pierre Guillaume is a busy boy. Since the launch of his first perfume brand Parfumerie Générale in 2002, he has produced more than 73 different perfumes under three different brands. By my count, that's an average of six per year, or one every two months. I once forgot to change my bed sheets for two months, so to say I’m impressed with this man’s dedication to his vision is something of an understatement.

And yet, with such a prolific body of work, you've probably never heard of Parfumerie Générale. The brand seems to fly under the radar of all but the most dedicated fragrance obsessives, playing the quietly confident middle sister to the good-at-everything-she tries older sister of Frederic Malle's Editions de Parfums, and the brassy, blinged-up younger sister, By Kilian. The simple black and cream bottles sit studiously on their shelves, concentrating on the job at hand which is simply to make you smell fabulous. There isn’t a futuristic room diffuser or a snake-embellished clutch to be seen between them. When curious customers ask me to sum up the brand for them, I used to tell them that its real strength is gourmands and hyper-real foodie fragrances, excitedly pulling out Musc Maori’s technicolor chocolate and instant toothache Praline de Santal. Rookie mistake. The brand actually houses something for all tastes, from pretty fresh florals to evocative orientals to spicy chypres and even a rump-grinding dirty musk thrown in for good measure. Each creation plays its own tune, the music swelling up together like a grand symphony.

 If the brand itself is an orchestra, then Tubéreuse Couture is undoubtedly the cymbals. Tuberoses and I had a difficult beginning during my first forays into perfumery. For no reason I can think of, I loudly professed to anyone who would listen (which was precisely nobody) that I despised tuberose, hated it, that tuberose was RUINING MY LIFE. It was far too cloying, too sickly sweet and definitely had WAY too much wobbly cleavage on show. Shut up, I’d never even smelled a tuberose. Now, guess what? I love tuberose, I can’t get enough tuberose, tuberose is the BEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO ME. Tuberose can be cloying and sickly sweet, but in the right hands it can also be sophisticated, erotic, narcotic or just a screaming good time.

A screaming good time is what you’re signing up for when you take your first spray of Tubéreuse Couture. A bubblegum-snapping camphorous tuberose rockets up your nose, followed closely by the raspy hiss of spun sugar and overripe banana. Having worn itself out on a manic sugar-high by lunch, the fragrance then went for a siesta, exhaling sighs of tuberose softened by the wet heat of jasmine, woody papyrus and a touch of creamy ylang. But by the time I was ready to leave work, the fragrance was wide awake and ready to party again. I could almost feel it grabbing me by the coat sleeve and pulling me towards a taxi bellowing, “LET’S GO DANCING! COME ON!”
But I am marching determinedly towards the comforts of middle age, and I like my bed. So Tubéreuse Couture went to the party without me, dressed to the nines and ready to shake it. Does she still have too much wobbly cleavage on show? Without a doubt. But I’ve learned to love her for it.
Tubéreuse Couture is £81.50 for 50ml. Samples and full bottles are available to purchase at Les Senteurs


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Gateway Drug: Dior Oud Ispahan

By Laurin

I meant to write something completely different for my introductory "Get Lippie" post. But as I was writing last week during quiet moments in the shop, I began to feel like I was sitting down to watch a play halfway through the first act. I need to tell you how I got here, because I can hardly believe it myself.

I know the exact time it happened: July 14th, 2012. About 12:40pm. Early for lunch with a friend in Marylebone, I took a detour through the fragrance hall at Selfridges, and that decision changed my life.

I think it was the softly glowing pink liquid that caught my eye. It certainly wasn’t the rather stark, sturdy bottle. Dior had just launched Oud Ispahan earlier that year as part of their more exclusive "La Collection Privée" and a jewel-like displayof bottles sat enticingly near the entrance to the Dior Fragrance Lounge.

The official notes are rose, oud, patchouli, sandalwood and labdanum, but I could have told you precisely none of that 18 months ago. All I knew was that when I sprayed it on my wrist, that I was instantly transformed into a languid, heavy-lidded seductress with the power to ensnare helpless suitors with one bat of my fluttering eyelashes (well - IN MY MIND). Make no mistake - I am about as far from the Thousand and One Nights as you can possibly get. I am a blonde-haired, green-eyed girl from coastal Alabama who could potentially be mistaken for a transvestite in heels. I'm more likely to swear at you than I am to whisper sweet nothings your ear. But this, I discovered that day, is the transformative power of fragrance, to make you into the person you never imagined you could be, if only until the clock strikes midnight and your rainbow whirl of silk scarves turns back into a Gap jumper.

Oud Ispahan is not original. The combination of rose and oud is a classic one in Eastern perfumery, and it has been done to death in recent years, from the inarguably beautiful but eye-wateringly expensive Kilian Rose Oud, to the slightlyless grand but more accessible Body Shop Rose Oud (creativity, it seems, is not a priority when naming your oud perfume).

But sometimes ignorance is bliss when it comes to fragrance (who really wants to hear that Caron's Tabac Blond is but a shadow of its former glory when time machines are still in dreadfully short supply?) and to my fresh nose, Oud Ispahan smelled like the most haunting evocation of hazy desert sands and gold-leaved minarets this side of the Persian Gulf. A transparent, shimmering rose coupled with the raw, inner-thigh heat of oud, the nose-tingling prickle of patchouli and the richness of sandalwood smelled to me then like nothing ever had before.  I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. Later that afternoon, I lay in bed sniffing my wrist three hours and listening to a low buzz in my head that I later came to realise foretold  that I was about to spend an ill-advised amount of money in a completely frivolous manner. Less than 24 hours later I found myself back in the Dior Lounge armed with a MasterCard and a wilful disregard for my bank balance.

Words like "cheap" and "value for money" take on new meaning in niche perfumery. If you love it and you can afford it (even as a treat), it's good value for money. So I'm going to stick my neck out and declare that at £125 for 125ml, Oud Ispahan is excellent value for money. A couple of sprays carry on all day, and into the next. The sillage is epic - it's about as close as you can get to a fanfare of trumpets announcing your arrival. And it makes people SWOON. You know the scene in the English Patient where Juliette Binoche tells charred Ralph Fiennes that she would summon her husband by playing the piano? I'm pretty sure I will summon my husband by wearing Oud Ispahan. Well, my next husband,that is.

After making such an unexpectedly extravagant purchase, I should have gone home and enjoyed my newfound love for the next year. But that's not what happened. Instead, I picked up a book that had lain untouched on my bookcase for the last two years entitled Perfumes: The Guide by Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez, fell down the rabbit hole of niche fragrance, and a year, thirty bottles and a dozen new friends later, landed in a Saturday job in a perfumery in Marble Arch to support my financially ruinous hobby. Frankly, a drug habit would have been cheaper. But whatever, I can quit at any time. Honest.

Oud Ispahan and the rest of Dior’s La Collection Privée are available at Selfridges, Harrods and Dior Boutiques.

Laurin

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Estee Lauder Amber Mystique Eau de Parfum

 

Did you know Estee Lauder had a couple of unisex fragrances these days?  No?  Me neither.  But they do.  In 2011 they released Wood Mystique, which has been generally well received by those in the know, and this year, they're following it up with Amber Mystique, which is currently exclusively available in Harrods in the UK.

Both Wood and Amber Mystique are quite firmly targeted at a middle eastern audience, being deep rich fragrances, and both utilising oud wood in their compositions.  I however, am a sucker for amber fragrances at all times, like on a cold day, when I want a hug in a bottle, I instinctively turn to Amber Sultan by Serge Lutens, which smells like a spice market, and I dragged my new husband all over Paris on our mini-moon back in February purely so I could track down a particular supermarket brand of amber-fraganced deodorant that I'm addicted to.  Yes, I like amber.  A lot.

And I do like this fragrance.  It begins with a rose-oud combination, smelling slightly medicinal, and a tiny bit fruity, there's a hint of blackcurrant leaves in the top, with their slightly herbal-soapy scent, then it's rose and pink peppercorns adding a hint of flora and spice to the mix, and then in the drydown there's a woody amber which is a little spiky, smelling more like pencil or cedar-wood shavings than the smooth, lacquered woods I think I was expecting from such an expensive entry from the Estee Lauder line.  It's not a criticism, more an acknowledgement that there actually is something a little unexpected in the heart of what could be a strictly middle-eastern-fragrance-by-numbers, if you were feeling a little cynical about the whole enterprise. 

After spending a couple of years smelling a lot of niche fragrances, I don't think this one from Estee Lauder is particularly original, but I do enjoy it's deep, dark richness, and if you're looking for something a little bit different to the recent releases from Estee Lauder (personally, I've found the recent rash of "Nude" fragrances to be rather underwhelming. Although, by "rather", I do in fact mean "totally"), then this might totally be in your ballpark.
 
The Fine Print - PR Sample.

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Tom Ford Aftelier d'Orient - Plum Japonais and Rive d'Ambre

The Aftelier d'Orient collection from Tom Ford has been on counters for a little while now.  Based on both oriental fragrance types and utilising ingredients from the east, it's an interesting collection, which I personally prefer over last year's "Dark Daffodils" or whatever it was called.  After sniffing all four fragrances, I was most interested in Plum Japonais and Rive d'Ambre.  Whilst I liked Fleur de Chine, it was a little too flowery for me, and Shanghai Lily couldn't - in my opinion at least - hold a candle to the divine Lily & Spice by Penhaligons, so I passed it by.

Plum Japonais is based around an accord of Japanese Ume plum.  I was expecting it to be tart, sharp, and fruity, but what you get is actually a surprisingly smoky scent, redolent with a tiny hit of stewed fruit behind it.  It is similar in feel to Serge Lutens Feminite du Bois, but it lacks a little of the spice that the Lutens contains in spades (and that always reminds me a little of Christmas), making it a little softer and rounder than its Lutens counterpart.  It lasts gloriously well, and this might well be my least sarcastic Tom Ford fragrance review as a result.  It's nice, and I like it a great deal, however, I'm not sure it's original enough for the price tag. It's sophisticated, and gently wearable, whilst being different enough from most things on the high street, but ... you could wear Feminite du Bois for £80 less a bottle ...

Rive d'Ambre I simply fell in love with, in spite of (or perhaps because of) its lack of originality.  It's a cologne, essentially, albeit one that opens with fruity, juicy almost photo-realistic orange juice.  It's bright, fresh and (oddly) adorable.  It's almost the scent of those orange juice ice-lollies you remember from being a little kid.  It's not quite as fresh or green or as bitter as a traditional cologne, remaining fresh, bright and cheerful more or less to the end.  When you do get to the end, there's a cuddlesome amber at the bottom, which is as friendly and lovely as the top notes.  Again, I'm not entirely convinced it's £140's worth of bright friendliness, but it is lovely, and it makes me smile whenever I wear it.

My favourite way to wear these fragrances is layered.  I spritz with Plum Japonais first, then a slight spray of Rive d'Ambre over the top.  Rive just seems to add a little brightness to the rather smoky plum fragrance, and layering extends the wear of both.

Still, at least none of them are called "Daffodil of the Night", I guess ....


The Fine Print: PR Samples
 
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Reiss Grey Flower Eau de Parfum

  
I don't go to Reiss very often.  Well, ever, let's face it, but now they've released a fragrance, at least there will be something in the shop that'll fit me these days ... anyhoo, I was very surprised when I first sniffed Grey Flower released by the brand in association with Azi Glasser, I'd been expecting some fizzy, flowery, sugary syrup designed to appeal to the lowest common denominator with the simple aim of being as innoffensive as possible in order to maximise sales.

I was wrong.

Grey Flower is an amazing fragrance to be launched by a high street store, and from the slightly medicinal (almost oud-like) opening, to the challengingly prickly and spicy wood base, it feels decidedly "niche" to the nose, and I was expecting a higher price point than £49 after I smelled it, too.  This smells expensive and intriguing, and not like anything else for the money.  The formulation also contains pimento berry, frankincense and amber, and the nose-tinglingly spicy woody base is sequoia wood. There is not a flower, or a stewed fruit nor a even the slightest hint of candyfloss in sight. It's a deep golden-seeming fragrance, making the perfume rather peculiarly named ...

It's dry, spicy, and rather unusual, I genuinely can't think of anything else (that I've experienced) that it smells like, and it's rather marvellous for that.  Whether the average perfume customer will appreciate it is another matter, however, and I look forward to finding out the first set of sales figures.  Oh, and I bet the first flanker is a whole bunch more conventional ...

The Fine Print: PR Sample

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Ellie Saab Le Parfum - Eau de Parfum Intense

This is the second flanker to the original Ellie Saab le Parfum, which was released in 2011, the original was, I found, a rather sweet and diaphanous orange blossom and honey fragrance.  I liked it, but it always felt rather "thin" to me, and whilst I do wear it once in a while, I don't adore it as some people do.

In 2012, they released an Eau de Toilette version (which I haven't smelled in all honesty), and that was supposed to evoke a fresh Meditterannean morning to the original's warm midday, and in 2013 they've finally released an "evening" version of the fragrance which is deeper, richer and more intense in almost every conceivable way.

Where the original fizzes on first spraying with bright light citrus, Intense sets its stall out early with an intriguing and heady - intensely heady - burst of orange blossom and rather animalistic honey, letting you know right away that this isn't some flighty little wisp of a fragrance that'll disappear after an hour or so.  Whereas the original finally settles into a powdery blossom fragrance, there's a meaty and distinct amber at the bottom of Intense, which is warmer and more intimate than the EDP.  

I find it a fragrance perfectly designed for the evenings, and I think it'd be a great "date night" fragrance, it seems designed almost to make people want to get closer to you to smell it more. It lasts well, and surprisingly for such a deep fragrance, it sticks close to the skin, having only a rather modest sillage. It's a thick and intense scent, but it also has a hint of playfulness not usually seen in "intense" fragrances, and I think that's down to sparkle of the blossoms used.  It's also, of course, down to the talents of Francis Kurkdjan, who is fast becoming the favourite perfumer of this particular blogger. 

30mls of Ellie Saab le Parfum Eau de Parfum Intense will cost around £40, which is a bargain. 

The Fine Print: PR Sample 

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Mugler Cologne by Thierry Mugler

I'm in a funny kind of limbo at the moment, summer is most definitely over, autumn is well under way, winter is approaching on the horizon, and yet here I am preparing for my "summer" holidays.  We delayed our honeymoon quite considerably (the wedding was in February), and there's still the best part of two months before we go away, so I  have a kind of odd reluctance to part with my summer scents, not to mention the clothes!  Mugler Cologne, like so many cologne-scents is perfect for summer, (and it's the fragrance I'm taking with me on my honeymoon as a result) but how insane is that ad above?  I keep looking it and screaming "WHY ARE THERE ONLY THREE ARMS? WHERE'S THE OTHER ARM, THIERRY????", only, you know, inside my head, I'm not insane.

Mugler Cologne is fresh and slightly bitter, clean-scented with hints of laundry-musks, orange blossoms and herbs, it's about the most mainstream fragrance from the Mugler line (if you ignore Angel, that is.  Let's face it, Angel is, essentially, in a league of its own, let's face it). Certainly, it's the easiest Mugler fragrance to wear, no candyfloss (Angel), no space-jasmine (Alien), no caviar and creamy grapefruit (Womanity) and no strange hallucinations of giant Twixes wandering around your flat as on those occasions when MrLippie wears A*men.  Mugler Cologne is simple, free and easy almost.

It is very, very green-smelling, and it's quite difficult to pull out the different scents on the skin whilst you're wearing it, but there are hints of grassy vetiver, and lots of beautiful orange blossom, and I think I can detect something a little creamy, and possibly salty deep down, close to the skin.  It's crisply refreshing, and I'm hoping it'll be the perfect accompaniment to my tropical winter holiday.  It lasts about as long as you'd expect an eau de toilette to, which isn't very long at all, but it's a big bottle and constant reapplications aren't the worst thing in the world.  Sillage is moderate, so you won't be gassing anyone by reapplying, either.

Best of all, it's only £31 per 100ml in Debenhams, and the matching hair & shower gel is £17.  That's about half the price of a similar cologne from Guerlain and - get this - it's a seventh of the price of the same size bottle of Tom Ford Neroli Portofino ...

The Fine Print: The fragrance was a PR sample, but I've been and bought the bathing products as a result of the sample ...

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