Here I bring you Part Two of my post on the white floral perfumes that have been irrationally possessing me of late. I think it's sort of a magical thinking effect -- if I wear the summery smells, summer will arise. Because Style Spy does not like the cold, my friends, despite it providing her with the opportunities to wear her large collection of gloves and boots and vintage velvet coats & jackets. Sure, I love the cashmere and the suede, but at heart I'm a summertime gal.
And apparently, my strategy is working -- it was in the mid-70's today! Hooray! For all those wishing for a white Christmas here in Austin, I do apologize. Actually, I don't. I moved to Texas so I wouldn't have to deal with the white stuff anymore. And all those wishing for a white Christmas in Austin are deluded souls, anyway, 'cause that just ain't gonna happen.
But back to sniffage...
Jasmin de Nuit by The Different Company
I have two very beloved jasmine plants on the balcony of my apartment. One is a Maid of Orleans jasmine and one is a confederate jasmine. They are both gorgeous and intoxicating, and the smells of their blooms are wildly different. Confederate jasmine is spicy and licorice-y, and that's what we have in this perfume because of the hefty doses of anise & cardamom that blend with the flower, all resting on a nice cozy bed of amber. This is olfactory comfort food for me -- a soft, spicy, delicious floral that is almost tangible in its warmth. The days that I wear this I find myself spraying it compulsively -- going back to my dresser again & again just to get another hit, maaaaaaan. Hypnotic, addictive, and yet somehow familiar & comforting. Bliss. 
A La Nuit by Serge Lutens
Jasmine. Jasmine, jasmine, jasmine, and more jasmine. This is what perfumistas call a "soliflore;" the focus of this composition is a single type of flower. This is the Maid of Orleans jasmine -- a high, keening, slightly green laser of a scent. True jasmine in full bloom has a sweetness so piercing that it verges on plastic -- it's off the scale, the olfactory equivalent of dog-whistle territory. I've smelled a lot of jasmine perfumes in my time, but none come anywhere close to replicating the smell of the actual plant like this one. This isn't a "rendition" or a "version" of jasmine -- it IS jasmine. A rich, sexy, lay-you-out, drop-dead gorgeous bomb of white flower and it requires more than a little bit of spine to carry it off. You've never heard the expression "shrinking jasmine," have you? There's a reason for that.
Un Lys by Serge Lutens
Un Lys by Serge Lutens
Being as this is the third Lutens fragrance I've talked about, I feel I should tell you that M. Lutens is not actually the nose, or composer, of the perfumes that bear his name. That title belongs to a genius named Christopher Sheldrake, who is the magician behind these wonders. Sheldrake is... well, a lot of his fragrances are downright eccentric and a few of them I would not wear for love nor money (Miel du Bois, anyone? ::shudder::). Serge Lutens is a legendary figure from the world of cosmetics, famously connected to the Japanese company Shiseido, which is the corporate parent of all these little beauties, and of Lutens' own carefully edited and obscenely expensive line of cosmetics. (The mascara is 60 bucks. Seriously.) That being said, Un Lys is one of Sheldrake's most accessible fragrances. It's just... pretty. It's lovely floral-print chiffon frock at a tea party pretty. Another soliflore, this one lily, it is light, quite green and has definite lilac notes, with a soft hint of non-sugary vanilla in the drydown. No one could argue with this perfume -- it is everything light and feminine and good without being unctuous or childish.
Amoureuse by Parfums DelRae
My HG floral. (That's "holy grail," for all you non-perfumistas.) It's a massive white floral: tuberose, jasmine, and lily juiced up with a tiny bit of tangerine and deepened to almost obscene sexiness with a warm rich honey basenote that suffers from none of some honey notes' unfortunate tendencies. (Honey notes often bear a remarkable resemblance to urine. Not pretty. Phenyl acetates, which are the chemical compounds most often used to represent honey in perfumes, are also present in the composition of human urine, and can smell like either thing depending on how they're handled and what their concentration is. There. I sneaked a little chemistry into today's lesson!) There's also a cardamom note throwing a rich spiciness into the mix. (I do loooove me some cardamom in fragrance.) The perfume is supposed to smell like the lindens, or box trees, that grow in San Francisco, where the company is based. I dunno if it smells like box trees or not, but I adore this stuff. I'm not alone in this, although in the interest of full disclosure it is a bit much for some folks. It is extremely potent, I have to be very careful how much I spritz. But if I know I'm going to be at home by myself all day, I'll really douse myself and revel in it. It's intoxicating, this perfume -- a great high with no hangover. One of my Top Three. (Perfumistas often play our version of the professional chef's Last Supper game: if you had to narrow your collection down to three, or five, or ten, which would they be?)So that's how I've been smelling lately. I don't think it's likely to change soon, since I've just received my new decant of Chanel Gardenia from The Perfumed Court, so I'm about to begin a whole new love affair with a whole new white flower. What perfumes are you wearing lately? What perfumes are you hoping to receive for Christmas?
Tell ya what. Since it's the holidays and all that, let's do a giveaway! Leave me your name in the comments section and this weekend I'll draw one. Winner receives samples of A La Nuit, Carnal Flower, Amoureuse, and Bergamot 22!! Happy sniffing!
Photos: Luckyscent.com, Barneys.com, BeautyHabit.com
