More fragrance reviews

Whoa, looks like the posts on perfume (reviews and the short feature on "Singapore" fakes) have become the most popular on this blog! No kidding.
 

It's late winter and I've been doing a lot of sniffing, wish-listing and occasional buying. Just for fun, here are more fragrance reviews, which I originally posted on the perfume website / on-line community Fragrantica. Take them with a grain of salt -- each person's skin is different, experiences are unique, and no two persons have exactly the same repertoire when it comes to description.
 

More reviews available on my Fragrantica.com profile page.

 

Kenzo Jungle L'Elephant Kenzo

 

One of the spiciest, most exotic scents I have ever sampled. I smelled plum, cloves (a ton of cloves!) and what I thought was cinnamon (turned out to be cardamom) in the first moments. It opens with a pleasant medicinal-gourmand odor, and in its warmth I am reminded of Chopard Casmir, albeit less vanillic. A friend keeps a mini in her guest bathroom, and one day she let me dab it on: it could be smelled all around the table as we sat down to dinner, a big bully of a side dish that threatened to take over the main course. What a bottle, and what a name! I suppose the reference must be to Indian elephants with their neat ears, their jewel-encrusted saddles and their sinuous movements as they haul teak logs through the jungle. However, it’s the African elephant that comes to my mind – a perfume that rushes straight at you, all ivory tusks and huge flapping ears as it trumpets its presence.

 

***

 

 

Maroussia Slava Zaitsev

 

I admit half of the draw was that this is a perfume by a Russian designer. The bottle is irresistible in the photo and looks even more beautiful in your hand, like a jewel. The scent is of another era, or belongs to a more mature and elegant woman than I am. It's a dress-up scent, for special occasions, and would work better in fall-winter. I can detect the civet note, which actually makes it exciting, if odd. But there are no discernible floral notes, just a dark hovering bouquet, as though ten thousand flowers were massed up in a chapel. Maroussia is a strong and distinctive animalic fragrance, so I recommend spraying into the air and walking into it, rather than direct-spraying on your person or clothing.

 

 

***

 

Sweet Honesty Avon

 

I got this in a little bunny rabbit bottle for my 10th birthday (which always seems to fall around Easter) way back in 1979. It is quite an unusual scent, girlish and feminine, the young Jessica Lange, Olivia Newton-John, something a kid never forgets. Recently I received the contemporary version in a swap with another community member and friend. On first application, the scents were virtually identical, and so I relaxed and thought, A rare one indeed, an undisturbed classic. Immediately, things fell apart, the streak on my forearm turning to pure weightless powder, the ghost of that beautiful, distinct personage from way back. Something is missing from today’s Sweet Honesty… my nose seeks out the sparkly nip of what was probably aldehydes, and maybe a smidge of sandalwood or perhaps oakmoss. (I’m not looking at the reviews or the posted notes as I write this, just going on the scent and memories.) Today’s young uns are missing out on a lot.

 

 

***

 

Lovely Blossom Armand Basi

 

The opening skish is very fruity, like a melon-laced drink you order at a tropical resort. A moment later comes the girl herself – yes, this perfume has an airy pink feminine presence -- sweet like flowers on a breeze and sweet like the layer of sugar at the bottom of that drink. I thought the flowers might be honeysuckle, but the notes tell me otherwise. The scent does have that agreeable nature of syrupy fruit, candied but “lite.” It’s young but ageless, playing not to a demographic, but to a mood. It’s a bottle of shimmery early-summer. Total congruence between scent, bottle design and name.

 

***

 

Ambar Jesus Del Pozo

 

Starts off with blurry, non-astringent citrus that persists for several hours. Beneath that, I can isolate what must be the amber accord (a synthesized, fictional accord, as true amber from prehistoric resin has no smell). It is exotic, slightly woody and resinous, non-vanilla, and there is a similar facet to Sarah Jessica Parker’s “Twilight”, although Twilight and Ambar have a radically different effect. If I spray Ambar (I love that name!) on before bedtime, by morning it has become a pleasant and rather unisex skin-scent, the citrus and amber melded into one.

I still have to road-test it in tropical heat, but in winter in northern Europe, the scent so far has been dry (non-sweet), non-floral, unobtrusive, the perfect backdrop for, say, writing a thesis. The scent goes fast, since I need two or three sprays to really feel its presence. The bottle, full or otherwise, is a true gem, and suggests something far more medieval or mystical than the scent itself.

 

***

 

Fraicheur Vegetale Cedre Bleu Yves Rocher

 

It’s not foresty so much as woody – the clean honest smell of cedar planks, or the inside of a chest or cupboard. A bare cedar, separated from the pure air and verdant foliage of its origins, and already prepared for domestic use. There is a touch of vanilla, or the benzoin that, to many, registers as vanilla. When I wear it, it’s not the color blue that comes to mind, but a warm beige: a masculine beige, as this is a warm, rather masculine cologne. And although I’m a woman that suits me just fine.

This is a cologne I will reach for when I know I’ll be working alone, no people to please or impress, just me and my keyboard and my thoughts. The bottle is sleek yet unprepossessing, and it’s all of 125 ml, meaning I can use it (1 burst from the sprayer is strong enough) without worrying I’ll run out.

 

***

Omnia Bvlgari

 

I love this perfume. It’s my go-to fragrance when I’m teaching. I’m a foreign language instructor and it serves me well to appear friendly, culture-savvy, and a bit androgynous. I see a lot of spices listed in the notes, but to me this is a straight-up woody fragrance, a la Yves Rocher Nature Millenaire (for women). It opens faintly and citrusy and this is probably the reason why so many people express disappointment in it. Don’t let the opening fool you: the scent strengthens, whether you’ve sprayed it on skin or clothing, the sort of elegant, discreet, rather masculine lacquered-armoire vibe that I really love.

If you were hoping primarily for a spicy gourmand, misled by the well-publicized white chocolate note, you’ll be disappointed. The note does appear, albeit elusively as the perfume plays mind games with you: now you catch the white chocolate, now (frowning in perplexity) it’s the same note but it smells balmy… no, woody… no, like benzoin maybe. This is great in winter, misted all over a wool sweater.

 

***

Je Reviens Worth

 

When I first sprayed it on, I had to run to my computer and check the notes for ylang-ylang, and sure enough, there it was. The opener is all ylang-ylang, coupled with a chemical sharpness. (The aldehydes?) The scent of this lovely yellow flower shades off into that of daffodils and something odd and burnt, as though the various blossoms making up the fragrance had been singed at their hearts. I had to apply more than I usually do, as for all its classic undercurrents, the current formulation of Je Reviens does seem rather weak and watered down.

Here is something macabre: when I was six years old, my grandfather died, and as he lay in his casket, us cousins took turns peering past the glass at his gray slack face. Candles dripped and occasionally smoked over our heads. There was a pervasive odor of wilting tropical flowers. To allay our tension and fears, we gathered ylang-ylang blooms fallen from the trees across the street, and stuffed them in amber-colored bottles filled with water and sealed with wax, to make “agua.” I am perturbed that after putting on Je Reviens it is this memory that welters up, after more than 30 years.

 

***

Moringa The Body Shop

 

I fell in love with this fragrance the moment I tested it last year. It’s available in body butter format, so I got that for Christmas. Moringa refers to a genus of tropical plants; the Philippine type is called malunggay. I have smelled the living flowers, which are surprisingly sweet (albeit light), such glamour for such a humble plant.

I don’t know which species the Body Shop’s essences were extracted from, but man, this scent is STRONG. It is lush, creamy and sensual, of the same intensity as tuberose but of different character. No wood, no astringency, no green.

One application of the body butter will defeat any other “nice” scent you may happen to be wearing. I have found it is best on its own, as it won’t make friends with rose, iris, incense, cedar or tea. Would probably get along well with orange blossom, tuberose or gardenia, but I haven’t dared. That would be the equivalent of a lunch table of glammed-up fashion editors in the first, garrulous stages of intoxication.

 

Eugenia Apostol: a profile

Here is a profile of Eugenia "Eggie" Apostol, acclaimed Filipino journalist and founder of the Philippine Daily Inquirer. The piece was originally written for the February 2006 issue of the magazine Me, but did not see print due to a change of editorial teams and a change in the magazine's focus. The piece was commissioned by then-Me editor Maya Besa.

 

Eugenia Apostol: Caring for the truth

 

By Lakambini A. Sitoy

Eugenia Apostol emerges from the front door of her unassuming Dasmarinas Village home. Though there are servants about she opens the gates herself. She is petite, her complexion very fair, her features tiny. Today she walks with a slight limp, making her seem especially fragile, though at 80 years of age the founder of the Philippine Daily Inquirer – career journalist, lifestyle commentator and savvy businesswoman -- is as active as ever.

In her living room, Apostol, “Eggie” or “Tita Eggie” to friends and colleagues, chooses a carved wooden armchair and, straight-backed and poised like a dancer, begins to reminisce about her life. The room, with its nacre-inlaid chests, a Japanese screen, and folding doors that open out onto a terrace lush with plants, evokes a bygone era, the glory days when education, hard work and fair play were the formula for prosperity. A crepuscular Sanso landscape, and a collection of images of the Virgin Mary, antique by the looks of them, add to the atmosphere of nostalgia.

Eternal Avila

Text and photos by Lakambini A. Sitoy

Originally published in Philippine Graphic newsmagazine,  November 2005

AVILA, west of Madrid, blazed in the 40-degree heat of midsummer. The city squatted, a veritable fortress, in the middle of an inhospitable plain strewn with boulders and scrub trees. A massive 11^th century stone wall encircled the ancient city -- 2.5 kilometers of round towers, gates and battlements. Above the wall tiled rooftops were visible, and a Gothic cathedral with its distinctive rose window. 

Avila is best known for St. Teresa of Jesus, whose feast day is the 15^th of October. Many monasteries and churches in the city have some affiliation to this scholar and mystic. Born of noble parentage there in 1515, she was brought up in an atmosphere of books and religion. Following her mother’s death when she was 14, she was sent to the Augustinian nuns for her education. Against her father’s wishes, she entered the Carmelite convent at the age of 19. A serious illness in her early 20s left her health permanently impaired. Shortly after she began to experience visions, one of the most famous being the piercing of her heart by an angel armed with an arrow.

As a nun Teresa reorganized the Carmelites along a more severe and disciplined path, and she managed, before her death in 1582, to found 15 women’s and two men’s monasteries for this barefoot order. She exerted great influence on the spiritual life of her time through her visions and revelations, which she described in a flood of books. She was canonized in 1622.

We entered the Convento de Santa Teresa, within the city walls. It is a baroque church from the 17^th century built over the saint’s birthplace. Because the church is very much in use as a place of worship, flash photography is forbidden, especially when masses are being held. Though there was no activity as we went in, the pews nonetheless held devotees sitting in quiet contemplation, in contrast to the tourists roaming the aisles and peering at the statuary and paintings. In the summer, Spain’s cities and monuments are besieged by out-of-towners, scantily clad, a jarring sight. Most speak Spanish, coming either from Latin America or other parts of Spain.

Death by the Wayside: Memorials in southern Europe

This article was first published in the Philippine Daily Inquirer, October 30, 2005

Visitors to Europe usually put soaring cathedrals and little village chapels at the top of their must-see list. Nowadays, it has been wryly observed, tourists tend to outnumber worshippers in these places.

Yet there is poignant evidence of how religion infuses the lives of the general populace. Driving through a landscape of fields, punctuated by neat rolls of hay in the late summer, one comes across small wayside crosses, not on the motorways but on the smaller roads that link the towns.

They mark the site where a life ended in a road accident. Where someone’s journey abruptly stopped. Flower bouquets lie at the base of many of these crosses. Some are lashed to the arms. These memorials are most abundant in the traditionally Catholic southern countries, such as Belgium, France and Spain. One also finds them in Latin America and parts of the southwestern United States, where they are known as descanos, Spanish for “rest” or “relief.” In Chile they have become quite elaborate, like miniature chapels, with a photograph of the deceased within.

In the Philippines, especially in less urbanized areas, the site of a fatal road accident is also marked by a makeshift cross, fresh flowers plucked from a nearby shrub, and candles. Travelers pass the shrine and shudder. After dark, bloodstains on the asphalt glow an eerie green. But after a week of rain and heat, the bougainvilleas or hibiscus wilt completely and the crosses fall apart. Few people have the resources for permanent shrines, and roads are so narrow a concrete structure would be a hazard. Families worry that vandals or animals may desecrate something more lasting. Else they dismantle the sad little memorials themselves, dreading their use by malevolent spirits, their transformation into a portal for denizens of a different world.

"Singapore perfumes" : a subversive fragrance pyramid

A while back, on the perfume forum to which I occasionally post, a lady wanted to know what “Singapore perfumes” were. She came from Singapore and had never heard of the term.

Well, I explained, bluntly put, “Singapore perfumes” is a term, or a euphemism, devised by small retailers in the Philippines for counterfeit designer perfumes.

First, what makes them counterfeit, and different from knock-offs, dupes or imitations?  

Review: Cabotine de Gres

 

What a beauty indeed. It comes across as a white floral that has the greenness of the perfumes in that old, grand tradition (I'm thinking of the Miss Diors (original), the Rive Gauches). As I sniffed I sensed a cold metallic tinge, a particular combination of notes perhaps, that reminded me of

Reviews: Must II de Cartier & Ambre de Cabochard

 

Must II de Cartier EDT

I purchased a vintage 50ml bottle of Must II de Cartier EDT on the net. Perhaps the citrus top notes have faded with time, as I don't sense them, and the entire fragrance feels like it could be a slightly paler version of itself. Nonetheless, it’s the gem of my collection right now... the bottle is the kind that when you hold it, you feel a tightening in your chest.

Fragrance reviews!

Here's something light -- a clutch of perfume reviews I put up on under my profile in Fragrantica.com. For those who are interested in scent, or are contemplating the annual ritual of procuring something small, beautiful and expensive for a loved one, Fragrantica.com is a user-friendly, colorful and extremely diverse gateway into the world of perfumery. The reviews, done anonymously by hundreds of people around the world, are the work of the amateur, in the true and original sense of the word -- one who explores and writes about perfume out of sheer passion, and not the obligation to earn a living. Another excellent review and discussion site is Basenotes.com.

On Fragrantica, my user name is Lakambini. Below is a screen capture of the latest entries in my profile. As the text is too small to read comfortably, you'll find a couple of recent capsule reviews I posted after the screen cap image, and a dozen or so more after the jump.

 

 

 

Dior Fahrenheit

I put a huge spritz on my arm and got dizzying gasoline fumes, and in this miasma a whiff of leather, evolving into a sharp green odor that reminded me of a conifer forest in still cold air. Fossil fuels, animal skin and pine -- all raw, real materials, all synthetically rendered. And after a good scrub I am getting a monster dry-down: I am growing taller, muscular, rational, decisive, I will strip down for a shower later on and give out a long scream at the discovery that I'm a woman. Fahrenheit is a work of art that I can't wear, and can only appreciate on other people, men actually.

***

Deep Red Hugo Boss

I just feel warm, pulled-together and confident when I have this on. Starts out with a spicy-green note that reminds me of the experience of cutting and gathering tropical ginger flowers, then evolves quickly to a creamy, but very clean vanilla, which is pretty much the dry-down. I spray it on my scarves and sweaters for the experience of luxuriating in its soft understated goodness. I don’t think of it as “deep”, nor “red,” nor even “sexy” in the conventional whip-thin, belligerent, snarling-lipped sense. But if “sexy” means bringing out the best in me as a woman, then, sure, this fragrance is it.

A dialogue between Danish and Indian writers IV: Carsten Jensen and Manu Joseph

 

Vera Alexander (moderator): Can you share your thoughts on your role as writers?

Manu Joseph: I'm not really comfortable calling myself a writer. To me it's embarrassing... There's something vain about calling oneself a writer. I used to claim I was a writer when I was 16. I grew up in a middle-class family in Madras, where if you are 16 years old you're supposed to be preparing for the toughest engineering exam in the world, otherwise you're pretty hopeless. And when I said I wanted to be a writer, people thought there was something seriously wrong with me. But now I'm not sure... it’s something you can call yourself at the end of your life. I'm pretty sure you could be a writer after many, many years. On days that I'm feeling vain, I call myself a writer, and nobody objects.

Carsten Jensen: (As a writer), and I know it sounds pathetic, you somehow feel as if you're a stranger on earth. It feels like you don't belong. So you look at everything with a stranger's eyes, because you need to know the world in order to survive in a strange, and to you unfamiliar, world, in which you can't really identify. And you're constantly questioning to get to know it. And I think when it comes to language, you very quickly, as a child already, discover that the language that is handed over to you it doesn't really fit your experience of the world. You don't necessarily see it that way, and then you start a lifetime search for more precise words. And this is also called talent, or inspiration, but I think at the bottom of it, there is questioning, but there's also I think, an informal sort of aggressivity, as there always is in questioning. You don't just take things for granted. You don't basically accept them. So you are, somehow, aggressive as a writer, whether you lead a peaceful life or not. You are somehow at war with the world.

 

 

Manu: I have a schizophrenic existence as a journalist and a novelist. As a journalist, though, I find novelists very naive. ... For example, I was at a conference where they were making a 30-second silence for Syria. There is a naïve idea that to be a writer you must be a good person. So that is my perception as a journalist, (that as a writer) there is a constant posturing, that we stand for decent things, we are against oppression... As a journalist I find that amusing sometimes.

Dialogue between Danish and Indian writers III: Kirsten Thorup and Mridula Garg

Vera Alexander: I start off by inviting you to comment on your self-image as writers? What happens when you tell innocent people that you are writers?

Kirsten Thorup: I don't think about a role when I'm writing. I grew up with an oral tradition, and so when I write, I always think about telling the story. I always have this feeling I'm (doing so) more orally than written. When I went to school, I didn't like to write essays. So if somebody told me I was going to be a writer most of my life that would've been like depicting a hell for me.

But I had a need to write something I wanted to tell, or felt needed to be told. I'm mostly interested in the complexity of the individual human being, and the inner chaos. Also the individual towards society, their position, whether they are privileged or underprivileged. I'm very interested in people on the edge of society. I think it's because I myself feel that I'm on the edge of society. It's about being able as an individual to adjust to the rules and norms of society.

I start with the individual, and from that person, I create the story. I don't have a plot from the beginning. I'm interested in correcting the media's stereotypes -- that you have all these boxes that you put people in -- that certain groups are demonized or looked down on. I want to tell that all groups in society consist of individuals, with their own stories. I think that everybody's story is worth telling, if you go deep down in their life. I'm interested in the individual's struggle for existence.

So that's my aim: I want to give people voices, who do not have a voice for themselves. Of course every writer has his own standpoint, from which to tell about what is going on in society.

How people react to your telling them that you are an actor (referring to Astrid, an actor as well as playwright), or a writer ... they still find it strange that you are a writer. That's why it's not difficult for me to identify with all kinds of odd people, because you are placed there sometimes. I remember one time I went to a hospital and I had to register, and they asked me, "What's your job?" And I said, "I'm a writer." "Yes, but what's your work?"

A dialogue between Danish and Indian writers II: Githa Hariharan and Astrid Saalbach

***

Vera Alexander began the panel discussion by addressing the first pair, Githa Hariharan and Astrid Saalbach.

Key phrases for this first installment are: writer’s role, time and space, globalization, gender roles, Danish language, dansk, multilingualism, translation, theater, English, hegemony, Githa Hariharan, Astrid Saalbach.

Vera: Can you comment on your role as a writer? What is it like to be a writer? How does it feel to be a writer today -- has that changed in the course of your career?

Githa: In your day-to-day ... as a writer, you don't get a salary every month. And you're not a poet, you're not in a garrett, you're not this romantic figure. A novelist is a kind of middle-class figure, which is very boring indeed. I have a formula to describe my writing … It's called the well-constructed lie. Because we don't know ... And you're guessing as much is your readers are... but we have to construct it well.

So I came to my writing partly because I had a very traveling childhood. At the age of 13 I moved from Bombay to Manila, and there's nothing worse than being a 13-year-old in a classroom, and in those days we still had a very un-politically correct course called Oriental History, and the minute they began to speak of reincarnation and transmigration of souls, my 13 year old self would immediately look down and hope the teacher wouldn't call me to immediately explain this civilization that was such a burden on my poor little shoulders. But of course I was asked to explain, and so very early on I developed a deep and healthy skepticism about all forms of establishment, whether it was reincarnation or the nuns who ran the school...

More than anything you don't need to travel in India to find out that you live a multilingual existence, which is not of course all sweetness and light. There's a lot of tension, there is humor, but there's a lot of chaos, and I think that this is fertile ground for a writer. You know that language is something slippery, but it's something powerful and you better be very good friends with it. So I think this shifting ground is where a writer is made.

And finally, I think I really became a writer because I had a good job in publishing, and then I got pregnant. So when I went on maternity leave, I was surrounded by a whole lot of women who kept giving me contradictory advice, and then I had a baby who was wonderful, but terribly boring because you can't talk to a baby, so I wrote a novel.

Astrid: I'm still very confused when people ask what is a writer's role, because I still don't know after 30 years of writing. It's changing, I think it depends on how you look at yourself, and I look at myself as some sort of witness to a world that is disappearing, in my view. It is a way of understanding the world, and the difficulties of changing gender roles, and of belonging to the privileged part of the world, that I think is in its last days. And the guilt that I think we are born with, because we are so privileged, and we are living our very nice lives, because of so many people's not-so-privileged lives. And not being able to do anything about it. The skisma(schism) in everything.

Vera: Can we talk a little bit about the sense of place, and about the significance of the location in which you live and write, and write about, and the kind of feelings you have about places?