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cleolinda · 1 year

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Samsara (Guerlain, 1989 EdP & 2023 EdT)

A sandalwood overdose embellished by ylang-ylang and jasmine. Samsara is the first woody women's fragrance in perfumery. It is constructed over a beautifully crafted sandalwood, used for the first time in these quantities in perfumery. (Guerlain.com)

From Eau de Tati, the back story:

Jean-Paul Guerlain created Samsara in 1985 for Decia de Powell, the woman he loved and who wore the fragrance for four years before it was launched. Jean-Paul took the opportunity to create the perfume for her, as she could not find a perfume that appealed to her. She liked jasmine and sandalwood, in particular, and these were the raw materials on which Samsara was based.

It seems that Gérard Anthony co-created the fragrance, but Guerlain has always loved a good legend. Whether the Sanskrit word "saṃsāra" ("the concept of rebirth and 'cyclicality of all life, matter, existence'") suits the fragrance as a name is a lengthy discussion I'll leave to others.

On the face of it, Samsara is another Guerlain journey into orientalism (stop that!); it's a classic example of loud 1980s fragrance (outdated); it's a benchmark in the Western perfume industry's use of sandalwood (notable). I wanted to write up this one purely because I already had it on hand: when I say "1989," I mean, my mom gave me an eau de parfum sample in 1989. I would have been about ten years old, and I loved collecting little sample vials that gave me too many headaches to actually use—just to keep in my little treasure boxes full of costume jewelry and tumbled rocks and skeleton keys. Apparently I was a magpie, or maybe a dragon. There's only about five molecules left, but as it turns out, that is more than enough.

I also ordered a fresh decant of the current formulation from the Perfumed Court—all they had was the eau de toilette, not the EdP, so this is not a one-to-one comparison. Instead, we have, on one hand, the most aged a Samsara can get, saved since its debut year, and on the other, the lightest, freshest iteration possible. It's lovely, that new EdT. But it's not what I expected at all. A couple of years ago I managed to uncork the 1989 Samsara, and all I got was this incredible note of mingled sandalwood and jasmine—just the richest, smoothest, deepest thing you've ever smelled. But the new one, from my notes: "BUBBLEGUM??"

Powdery fresh floral, rose? Like a living flower that happens to be powdery, not a cosmetic. Very very fresh and outdoorsy, like a garden. The vague idea of sandalwood underneath. Something a bit sweeter coming out, maybe vanilla jasmine. Very light, very easy to wear. Airy, breezy. Sheer.

And then, ten minutes in, bubblegum came out. Motherfucking bubblegum. I had to look up what the old-fashioned Bazooka Joe-type flavor is, because it's not that—there's no tiny twang of clove or wintergreen hiding behind the fruits and vanilla. This is straight-up Juicy Fruit gum. Which involves banana, pineapple, and maybe peach, for a flavor "resembling jackfruit." Now, apparently jackfruit contains "banana oil," aka isoamyl acetate, so I went and googled it on a hunch: yes, it’s in ylang ylang too. Combine that with Samsara's actual peach note (although it smells fresher than the lactone in Mitsouko) and vanilla—

Basenotes.com: Green notes, peach, ylang ylang, bergamot, lemon, iris and orris, violet, jasmine, rose, narcissus, sandalwood, tonka, amber, musk, and vanilla.

—and you've got a powdery-nectar sandalwood bubblegum. It's so good. Two birthdays ago, I got myself a wide-ranging set of essential oils, just so I could see what things smell like individually; the night after I tried Samsara, I started messing around with them, and it's 10,000% the ylang that's bringing the strange fruity note. I rarely if ever see anyone mention the ylang-ylang in Samsara—they always talk about how strong the jasmine is, but I SWEAR TO YOU that this is what it does on me. In fact, twenty minutes in, Bubble Ylang was mostly what I was smelling.

At the same time, the fresh EdT was really, really powdery—you see iris there in not one but two levels of the note pyramid, and orris is just iris root. The classic Guerlains use the ionones of iris and violet a lot; they're in the house accord, the Guerlinade, which I may also try to get a sample of. But the powder is so much stronger in Samsara than I expected. I was promised a sandalwood overdose, and I'm sitting here with Juicy Fruit floating over a bed of irises—like the row of cool dark purple ones we had lining our driveway when I was a kid—at the half-hour mark. According to my notes, I didn't really get ~sandalwood until an hour-twenty, and even that was still blurring into the ylang-ylang. (Apparently these two notes are really compatible; it's the only thing same combination I liked in Chanel No. 5.) That said, it's lovely and sweet and easygoing if you APPLY SPARINGLY. Of the three Guerlains I've tried, this one was by far the easiest to wear.

Which is wild, because supposedly, Samsara is A Sandalwood Bomb, a true big-hair fume of the '80s that will choke you out of a room. And yet, I didn't even get the sandalwood clearly until more than an hour in. There's two reasons for this, I discovered:

One is that I microdose perfume. I always point this out because I want you to understand that if you apply more fragrance than I do, you are not going to get the tame results I do. If you spray Tyrannosaurus Rex all over yourself, there is nothing god or mortal can do for you. I used two swipes of the Samsara sample wand on my left wrist—and it did project a good bit, but it was comfortable. If I'd done the same on my right wrist to balance it out, I would have considered myself good to go for a perfume-appropriate occasion. Maybe if you didn't deploy FIVE SPRAYS you wouldn’t be choking on it, idk idk.

The other reason is that the current formulation of Samsara uses Australian sandalwood—whereas the original used a much richer Indian variety. I was surprised to discover that Samsara has always been formulated as a meeting of natural and synthetic sandalwoods, though. But the current version has a newer synthetic: Javanol. And the thing about Javanol is that some people can't smell it. And I may be one of them. Because there is no reason "an overdose of sandalwood" should smell this modest to me, in the same perfume that is shouting white floral, unless I physically cannot perceive its loudest component. But I'm smelling some sandalwood; that must be the natural oil.

For more on Javanol, I turn to a fragrance I haven't actually tried yet: Escentric Molecules' Molecule 04. Javanol is, in fact, that molecule. The product website explains, it's a synthetic that

retains the radiance and endurance of natural sandalwood, but is sheer and transparent like no sandalwood in nature. “What I love about Javanol is its almost psychedelic freshness,” says [creator] Geza Schoen. “It smells as if liquid metallic grapefruit peel were poured over a bed of velvety cream-coloured roses.” Javanol is like Iso E Super, the molecule in Escentric Molecules 01, in some ways. Like Iso E Super, it comes and goes. The person wearing it loses the ability to smell it after a short while, only to re-connect with it later.

Well, "it comes and goes" may be why I'm not smelling as much sandalwood in Samsara as advertised, I guess—maybe I’m not totally anosmic to Javanol? The company that makes it, Givaudan, says that the aromachemical has

a rich, natural, creamy sandalwood note like beta santanol combined with some rosy nuances. It can also be used at very low dosage (below 0.1%) to bring richness and creaminess to all types of accords. With its exceptional low threshold, Javanol™ is approximately 8 times more effective in wash tests than the most powerful sandalwood product. [...] In the quest for the perfect Indian Sandalwood, Javanol™ is probably the most versatile note with its power, radiance, woodiness and rosiness, blending perfectly with flowers.

Javanol blends so perfectly with ylang and jasmine, in fact, that I can hardly distinguish it through most of Samsara's lifespan on my skin (I appreciate a good olfactory chimera, so that's fine). I can also see why you'd reformulate Samsara, already famous for its Godzilla-sized projection, with the biggest, loudest synthetic sandalwood on the market. But the thing is, the Beast of Givaudan wasn't created until 1996. Javanol may be what Guerlain has paired with Australian sandalwood nowadays, but my original sample was made with [probably a mix of synthetics including] Givaudan's Sandalore and the good stuff—20% (!) Mysore sandalwood.

Mysore Sandalwood Oil is a trademarked perfume oil extracted from the Santalum album variety of sandalwood tree (also known as a "royal tree") in the Mysore district of Karnataka, India. The tree species is said to be one of the best varieties in the world. (Wikipedia, the most concise explainer)

It's also the most expensive. But while I'm sure reformulations are a cost-cutting measure, sandalwood sustainability has also become a huge issue; I'm happy with synthetics if it helps the cause. The Australian sandalwood used in the current Samsara seems to be a popular and less-threatened natural option; it's also in two other fragrances I'm trying at the moment, Le Labo's Santal 33 and Tom Ford's Santal Blush. But it's like the difference between tulle and velvet. You can still use it beautifully, but there is a smoothness and a weight that's missing. People say that Mysore sandalwood is "creamy," even sweet, and it is, but not in a dairy or dessert way; it's legitimately this kind of olfactory texture that's so good. By contrast, the scent of Australian sandalwood feels a little harsh in the top of my nose, full of wood grain and pencil shavings, but also lighter. And yet it blends just as well with the notes of the new Samsara, just in different ways.

As for the old—Mysore and Sandalore® were what greeted me when I uncapped my vintage, 34-year-old sample:

oh my god. ohhhhh my gooooood.

That big sweet fruity ylang-ylang immediately bounced right out—how had I only smelled jasmine in the vial before? I'll stop here and tell you a little bit about ylang-ylang, which is not the note I was expecting to go on about, but here we are:

When you hear about "white florals," they're generally talking about jasmine, gardenia, tuberose (you'll remember this one from HYPNOTIC POISON), lily, lily of the valley—and ylang ylang, even though the latter is a showy yellow flower. I truly don't know how to describe the White Floral if you're not familiar with it, especially since I've never perceived any funky "animalic" indole notes. It's just good to me, very rich, very perfumy, and apparently it does, in an aromatherapy context, have a slightly sedative effect; this may be why people talk about "narcotic" white florals. Ylang-ylang takes the woozy richness of jasmine and, uniquely, adds that fruity, slightly spicy, banana-esque note; I'd love to look for the differences between white florals as I try out more fragrances. With Samsara(s), the jasmine doesn't seem distinct to me, serving instead to support the ylang-ylang, and maybe this is why I only smelled jasmine in the vial: it's my skin chemistry, once again, that's playing favorites.

You know what else my skin apparently loves? Expensive vintage sandalwood. The original Samsara skipped straight to the 1:20 mark and—speaking of narcotics—hit me like a tranquilizer dart. I just curled up on my bed and held my wrist to my nose for about an hour. I was like a cat on the 'nip. My God. I had some hand-me-down incense sticks from the '70s when I was a teenager, and I have been chasing that sandalwood high for three decades. This is it. The blanket of iris, the bergamot blast other reviewers talk about (I only got it the third time I wore the EdT), the supporting cast of notes—barely there. Just the gold.

For about two hours, it was amazing. Then, gradually, Samsara grew more and more overpowering, like a rogue science project slowly ballooning out of control. I ended up wiping it off with a little jojoba oil—not washing it off (DON'T WASTE IT!!), but reducing the amount I had on. There's only about two drops, thick as maple syrup, left in that vial, and that's fine.

Meanwhile, every time I wear the current eau de toilette, it disappears after about three hours.

I wish I'd been able to get a current EdP sample to compare the two formulations directly. But you know what? I still enjoy the iris-forward, sandalwood-backward Samsara. It's easy to wear and it doesn't overstay its welcome, which is a good thing for someone with fragrance sensitivities (me). As much as I love the smooth golden Mysore aspect, I'd rather have the option to reapply than be trapped with the Sandalwood That Ate 1989.

Perfume discussion masterpost

#perfume #perfume discussion #perfume: guerlain #the beast of givaudan #note: sandalwood #note: ylang ylang #note: iris #note: white florals #note: javanol #long post

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osrviewss · 1 year

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SWISS ARABIAN Attar Givaudan Jannet El Firdaus - One of the Best Pure and Natural Attar!

https://osrviewss.com/swiss-arabian-attar-jannet-el-firdaus/

Swiss Arabian Attar: Previously, attar perfume was meant for only a certain group of people and was not easily available in every place.

But, in recent times many people started using attars with the increasing number of online sites.

Many hidden brands have started to come outside to showcase their hidden gems and gained popularity in recent times.

#swiss arabian #attar #swiss arabian attar #Givaudan Jannet El Firdaus #Jannet El Firdaus #Jannat Ul Firdaus #OSRVIEWSS #natural attar #pure attar #chemical free attar #swiss arabian attars #attar review #brand of uae #perfumed oil

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ambrenoir · 4 months

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(da Anne Givaudan)

La malattia ha una vibrazione di 5.5 hz,

la malattia non esiste più sopra i 25.5 hz.

I motivi che abbassano la vibrazione sono:

Stanchezza

Paura

Tensione nervosa

Rabbia

Odio

Per questo motivo dobbiamo vibrare in alto e non guardare continuamente le notizie nefaste che abbassano la nostra frequenza.

LA FREQUENZA DELLA TERRA OGGI 22-12-23 E' di 27,4 hz.

Ma ci sono luoghi che vibrano molto bassi come:

Ospedali.

Centri di assistenza.

Alcuni bar.

Prigioni.

Sotterranei,

Centri Commerciali ecc.

Ecco quando la vibrazione scende a 20 hz, o meno.

Dolore da 0,1 a 2 hz

Paura da 0,2 a 2,2 hz

Irritazione da 0,9 a 6,8 hz

Rumore da 0,6 a 2,2 hz

Orgoglio 0,8 hz

Abbandono 1,5 hz

Superiorità 1,9 hz

INVECE :

Generosità 95 hz

Gratitudine 150 hz

Compassione 150 hz o più.

Amore per il prossimo e per tutti gli esseri viventi a partire dai 150 hz in su.

Amore incondizionato e universale a partire dai 205 hz in su.

Allora ?

Occorre vibrare in alto!

Cosa ci aiuta a farlo?

Amare. Sorridere. Benedire. Ringraziare.

Giocare, cantare, ballare, godersi la vita, camminare al sole, fare attività fisica, godersi la natura.

Cio' ci auta a vibrare in alto!

Le vibrazioni della preghiera e della meditazione vanno dai 120 hz ai 350 hz

Ecco perché bisogna cantare, ridere, amare, vivere❣️

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revasserium · 5 months

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well you said we can talk about perfumes so I hope you don’t mind questions that might sound pretty dumb, but I’m a curious person LOL how do you get to work at a fragrance house? can you study about fragrance/scents or is it something you get train on academies or even department stores? like how do you get there? bc were I come from, careers are a little bit limited and uni majors even more so, so when I actually hear about or encounter someone that works on ��uncommon” fields to the standards of society I do wonder ‘can you study for that? or is it not as necessary and you can learn it on the field?’ I hope I’m making sense and not being too ignorant or unintentionally rude:’)

not at all!!!! i don't think a lot of people think about "perfume" as a career path LOL unless you're talking about like retail sales (where you work as an employee for like... chanel and you sell their perfumes or something) but yeah! i'll put under a cut cause i can ramble for ages u__u

to answer your qs:

i got the frag industry kind of by accident! i applied to a marketing internship at a startup right out of college, and it just so happened that the startup i worked for was in fragrance! :)

yes, you can absolutely go to school for fragrance! it's called perfumery school, and the most prestigious/well known one is ISIPCA, which is run out of versailles, but there are a few other ones that are pretty big as well: GIP (grasse institute of perfumery), and the école supérieure du parfum in either paris or grasse. there are a few colleges/unis outside france that offer perfume courses, but they're not entire schools built around perfumery. also, most major fragrances houses will have some kind of apprentice program, for instance givaudan has their own internal perfumery school, MANE does too (at least their website says it does), IFF actually partners with ISIPCA, and Firmenich also has an internal program that looks similar to Giv's (2 year, they jetset you around the world to learn smelling, etc).

but if you really do want to get into fragrance, you should pick a STEM major -- chemistry would probably be your best bet, mathematics being a close second. most, if not all, major perfumery schools require a bachelors in a math/science-related field. so you don't actually go to undergrad for perfumery, you go to grad school for it -- it's a long road for sure, but if this is something you're super passionate about then i say go for it! :)

but to your next question, also yes -- this is something you can learn "in the field" though it's much harder nowadays than it was before. see, before, perfumery was very much one of those "apprenticeship" crafts, like fucking.... ironworking or something, where you have a mentor, and you just like literally apprentice underneath them for like 5 or 7 or even 10+ years. and back then, a lot of the best and most famous perfumers were self taught! because they loved it or their parents worked in the industry, that kind of thing. as shitty as it is, fragrance is still a pretty nepotism-heavy field. and i think that's because it's such an "uncommon field", like you said, that no one really... thinks about it? usually, you don't work in the industry unless you grew up around it or have heard of it before. it's not something that people stumble into (though it does happen!)

i hope that answers all your questions! :D pls don't be afraid to ask more ! like i said this is something that i love so i don't mind chatting/rambling about it!

#smells good #🌧 raindrops

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occhietti · 1 year

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La gioia non la si insegna.

Al massimo si può dare una mano

a sgomberare pazientemente

i calcinacci che la ricoprono.

Una carezza dell'anima

o a volte uno scossone.

- Anne Givaudan

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shubhamjangid1211 · 6 months

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Pink Sugar Perfume by Aquolina for Women

Pink sugar Perfume Aquolina is a very sweet and playful perfume. Generally it is made for trevelling women. It is a fruity floral perfume that was created in 2004 by Shyamala Maisondieu and Givaudan..the top notes of this perfume is Fig Leaf, Orange, Bergamot, and Raspberry, the middle notes consist of Strawberry, Cotton Candy, Red berries, Licorice, and Lily-of-the-valley, he base notes are Caramel, Vanilla, Sandalwood, Musk, and Tonka Bean.This perfume also contains notes of spun sugar to create a delightful blend that will put a smile on your face.

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fruitchouli · 2 years

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“Angel Muse (Mugler) ★★★★ apple candyfloss

Twenty-five years ago Angel reset the volume button of oriental fragrances to about eleven, but in such a joyful way that you did not mind it behaving like a boisterous character who, by sheer force of charm and wit, manages to elicit smiles rather than frowns when making too much noise in a restaurant. Angel was what they call larger than life, and most of its imitators got the size right, but screwed up on the grace and ended up obnoxious. I thought this race of titans had nothing new to say, and I was wrong. Angel Muse starts off with a tremendous organ blast reminiscent of Black Orchid (Tom Ford), but then moves on to a deliciously vulgar apple-vetiver-praliné that feels like the love child of Cool Water and Flowerbomb. Getting all this heavy machinery to play nicely together cannot have been easy, and Givaudan perfumer Quentin Bisch deserves a lot of credit for making it work. If I may make a perverse suggestion, this—in small doses—would make a far better full-throttle masculine than current deodorant-on-steroids rubbish like Sauvage et al. LT”

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persolaise · 11 months

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Maison Crivelli Patchouli Magnetik (Quentin Bisch; 2022) & Oud Maracuja (Jordi Fernandez; 2023) Review

Quentin Bisch does it again -- my thoughts on Crivelli Patchouli Magnetik and Oud Maracuja. #perfume

Quentin Bisch is running the risk of becoming overly associated with his love of Akigalawood (the weirdly sour, unbearably strident patchouli-esque material so beloved at Givaudan, the company for which he works). But thankfully, if he’s used it in his Patchouli Magnetik for Crivelli, he’s modulated the dosage skilfully, as I discovered when I reviewed the scent over on YouTube the other day,…

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odoroussavourssweet · 1 year

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Sephora perfumes quick takes:

Givenchy Pi

Alberto Morillas, the man who created the 90s -- Pleasures, cK One, Acqua di Gio, Mugler Cologne, Marc Jacobs Daisy

Notes: mandarin, tarragon, rosemary, basil; anise, neroli, geranium, lily of the valley; vanilla, almond, tonka, benzoin, cedar

a mildly pleasant, sweet, biscuit-y thing, plus abstract woody-amber corporateness. Surprisingly likable.

Tom Ford Soleil Neige

"the nose behind this fragrance is Givaudan" lololol

Notes: bergamot, carrot seeds; orange blossom, white flowers, jasmine, rose; benzoin, vanilla, labdanum

weirdly it does make me think of sun on snow! I don't know why that has a smell!

YSL Libre

Moses: Anne Flipo & Carlos Benaim

lavender, orange, black currant, petigrain; lavender, orange blossom, jasmine; vanilla, ambergris, cedar

I'm surprised how much I like this! it's orange blossom, with a little weirdness in the opening that's apparently supposed to be lavender. I just like orange blossom, I guess. It smells good. Until the drydown, of course, which is cheap and tinny.

Armani Code

Nose: Antoine Lie

lemon, bergamot; star anise, olive blossom, guaiac; leather, tonka, tobacco

nasty, hostile, stinky-smoky-chemical top. It smells like a terrible person who enjoys hurting people. A fruity note underneath poking through, like orange, that might have been okay in a different perfume.

Twilly d'Hermes

Nose: Christine Nagel

Notes: ginger, bitter orange, bergamot; tuberose, orange blossom, jasmine; sandalwood, vanilla

a very fruity, pink, squeaky-clean tuberose; I might have liked it at age 13 when "dressing up" with real grownup feminine accoutrements was exciting. Too juvenile for me now, but I'll give it to her, the drydown is graceful and not screechy.

Dior Addict

Nose: Thierry Wasser

Notes: blackberry, mandarin; jasmine, night blooming cereus, orange blossom, rose; vanilla, tonka, sandalwood

playdoh top; sweet "vanilla" bottom. could conceivably have been worse, but that's a low fucking bar.

Gucci Memoire d'Une Odeur

Nose: Alberto Morillas

Notes: chamomile, almond; musk, jasmine; sandalwood, cedar, vanilla

super faint, pleasant enough floral, smells like the soap in an old-fashioned Paris hotel with black-and-white tile bathrooms. Fine for what it is, I guess.

Chanel Gabrielle

Nose: Olivier Polge

Notes: grapefruit, mandarin, blackcurrant; orange blossom, jasmine, ylang-ylang, tuberose, lily of the valley, pear, pink pepper; musk, sandalwood, cashmeran, orris

The thinnest, most nondescript synthetic floral imaginable. It doesn't smell outright bad, but it's basically a shrug in scent form.

Jo Malone Mimosa & Cardamom

Nose: Marie Salamagne

actually kind of nice, with the mildly cardboardy scent that mimosa can often have. a decent light-tan scent that isn’t too cliche.

Tom Ford Bitter Peach

peach, blood orange, cardamom, heliotrope; rum, cognac, davana, jasmine; patchouli, sandalwood, vanilla, tonka, cashmeran, benzoin, labdanum, styrax, vetiver

smells like peach, with, yes, more of a bitter-almond vibe and some pleasant tartness.

Do I want to smell like a peach? No. Do I like smelling it on the strip? Yeah.

Jo Malone Poppy & Barley

Notes: fig, blackcurrant, violet; wheat, powdery notes, poppy; barley, white musk, bran

nah. since poppies have no scent, they went with a fruity-powdery thing I find unpleasant.

Jo Malone Myrrh & Tonka

Notes: lavender, myrrh, tonka, vanilla, almond

it fits the "dark and sweet" expectations, but with so much "evil vibes" that I don't actually enjoy it.

Jo Malone Fig & Lotus Flower

Screechy chemical aquatic.

Lancome Idole

Notes: pear, bergamot; rose, jasmine; vanilla, musk

Zendaya notwithstanding, Idole is a pale, personality-less rosy thing. At least it's inoffensive.

Tom Ford Lost Cherry

Nose: Louise Turner

Notes: sour cherry, almond, liquor; plum, rose, jasmine; tonka, vanilla, peru balsam, benzoin, cinnamon, sandalwood, cedar, cloves, vetiver, patchouli

Take syrupy sour cherry jam; then add Evil Abstract Corporate aromachemicals. Now you have Evil Cherry. Christian Grey's Maraschino Cherry. I wonder if Tom Ford could just do that for all the fruits. Evil Apple? Evil Banana? I can't imagine who wants to wear Evil CEO Fruit, but it's such a wacky idea I gotta respect the hustle.

Jo Malone Vetiver & Vanilla

Notes: vetiver, vanilla, cardamom, tea, grapefruit

This one's not bad. Furry soft vetiver and sweet, golden vanilla. Mostly vanilla in the drydown but not 100% sugar.

Armani Si

Nose: Christine Nagel

Notes: cassis; rose, freesia; vanilla, patchouli, ambroxan, woods

Too sweet at first, but dries down kind of nice, skin-like, beige, with a sunniness that I thought was orange blossom.

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already-14 · 2 years

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MERET OPPENHEIM, German | 1913 - 1985

AFFICHE AVANT LA LETTRE, EXPOSITION À LA GALERIE CLAUDE GIVAUDAN - 1969

newgalerie.com

#meret oppenheim #surréalisme #1969

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cleolinda · 1 year

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(It is, in fact, a perfume)

Juliette Has A Gun: Not A Perfume (2010)

(newly-arrived “discovery set” sample)

I’ve wanted to try Not A Perfume for years; it’s supposedly one single base note that smells different on everyone. Thus, the real allure is, omg what does it smell like on me?

I will preface the rest of this by saying that perfume is a special interest for me, particularly reading about it. As such, I have read a lot about components, and I even have a wishlist of aromachemicals I’d like to huff for myself. And in theory, Not A Perfume would be a chance for me to smell Cetalox.

Allegedly, that’s all this is: “A fragrance made out of a single element called Cetalox. Usually used in perfumery as a base note, it plays here the lead role... Another advantage of this particular composition, is that it is entirely allergen free. The result is minimalist, elegant, pure,” says Juliette Has A Gun’s website.

“An extremely powerful and elegant amber note. Usage: Cetalox® gives rich, elegant effects to all areas of perfumery from sheer florals to modern ambers,” says The Perfumer’s Apprentice, a component supplier I stare at for hours like it’s the Sears Wish Book.

But a Fragrantica article claims,

In addition to cetalox, Not A Perfume obviously contains musks (galaxolide and helvetolide), iso e super and hedione. Together they create a slight floral effect, as if you washed the bed linens with an expensive conditioner with a white flower composition and hung it up to dry on a sunny summer morning.

(For what it’s worth, a commenter on that article says, “According to Dr. Philip Kraft (Scent&Chemistry) of Givaudan - Not a Perfume consists - 7.5% Cetalox along with Hedione, Iso E Super, Ambrettolide, Habanolide, Musk Ketone, Ethylene Brassylate & Boisamberene Forte.” Subsequent googling indicates that this seems to be widely known.)

Like, I don’t plan to do an aromachemical deep dive on every fragrance I talk about, but it seems kind of conceptually relevant here, you know? And I’m willing to believe Not A Perfume is something more floral, musky, and fruity than one (1) synthetic amber, because that Fragrantica description is very much what it smells like on me: dryer sheets. A strong but nondescript white laundry floral. Well-behaved yet loud as hell, like a six-year-old in a Sunday dress with the best of intentions. I sprayed this business into a tissue and barely touched it to my wrist; it gave me a headache within 15 minutes. It did not wash off after four hours. (Modern white musks—like, say, all those (-)olides—are used in dryer sheets and laundry detergent. They repel water; that’s why everything but the detergent scent washes out of your laundry, so I already knew I was probably fucked.) On me, it isn’t terrible, but it sure ain’t “an elegant amber.” My guess is that one note yelling at me in particular is the hedione: “An elegant, transparent floral, jasmine note with a citrus freshness,” known for its “radiance.” It’s been widely used in fragrance since the 1960s, and I’m wondering if it’s why “perfume” in general—in the ’80s for sure—gives me headaches. Goddammit, hedione.

So, dryer sheets. That’s my quiz result. What’s everyone else’s? In Fragrantica user reviews, there is a dizzying range: sour, green, “a fairy sweating,” gasoline, antibacterial hospital soap, “crystalline funk,” animal musk, rubbing alcohol, plain water, nothing, rotting garbage, wet cigarettes, wet burnt cigarettes, dried blood, Dolce & Gabbana’s Light Blue, ghosts, sandalwood, wet cardboard, metal, salt, and pears. Among many other things.

It smells like dryer sheets, and I do not want to wear it again.

I mean, I might. Actually, it smells kind of nice now that I’ve washed it off—oh, hey, I’m getting the pears now. Maybe Not A Perfume would play different in hot weather. I’ll pick some day to schedule a headache and see.

#perfume #juliette has a gun #text post #long post #welcome to hell it’s my blog #controversy!#perfume discussion #sparkling headache #note: musk

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