Muddle

I've been trying to put together a post on what currently constitutes 'niche' perfume and just making a complete mess of things. So, I'm going to leave that for a while until I can write one clear sentence in a paragraph.

Instead, I'll throw things open to readers:

*What does the term 'niche' in perfume mean to you?

*Does it make a difference at all to you if something is labelled niche or mainstream?

*If you have or have had holy grail fragrances, what are/were they?

PS It's war with the snails now: Came out this morning and they'd eaten the almost-ready-to-bloom flowers off of one of my delphiniums. Getting blue pellets this afternoon and damn the aesthetics!

A happy accident

Trailing through Fenwick at Brent Cross, looking for but not finding Lolita Lempicka (I saw the men's scent, though), I happened on Hermes Rocabar. What a wonderful surprise this is. I'll have more on an issue that the visit to Fenwick raised tomorrow. But today it's briefly on Rocabar.

I mostly like SAs to leave me alone in stores/fragrance sections. I usually know what I'm after for purchase or sampling and if I don't I'll ask.

After not finding the women's version of LL, and not being bothered enought to ask because I was hungry, I found myself standing in front of the Hermes section. I thought I might have a go at Caleche, which I like but also find perplexing, when I saw the bottle of Rocabar, which I'd never tried.

Sprayed it on a blotter, stuck it in my back pocket. Made quickly for the over-priced pretzel kiosk.

When I got home I did some googling.

Entry after entry listing this on the discount sites as aftershave.

Well, this is one snazzy aftershave. Infinitely better, more unusual, more striking and sexier than most of what's out there marketed at men.

All you 20-somethings looking at Gucci by Gucci pour Homme, have a go with this. You won't regret it -- and everyone around you will be soooo thankful.

Notes (per Osmoz) are bergamot, lemon, coriander, artemisia, cardamom, violet, orris, carnation, patchouli, benzoin, vanilla and oakmoss. Would you look at that??!! Wow! What an awesome soup.

On the blotter, this is complex citrus with a strong animalic underpinning (let's say it again, shall we: we love animalics). And rooty too: orris, coriander and patchouli doing something seriously good. And, finally, the fact that this has oakmoss just makes my heart happy.

This was released in 1998 and seems easy enough to get hold of. All in, very worth seeking out.

The sad of bad smells

The Independent newspaper here had a small Q&A piece on what to do if a work colleague wears a lot of a fragrance that makes you feel nauseous or uncomfortable. All the usual answers of say something about allergies, wretch loudly every time they spray, threaten legal action, etc.

The article made me wonder what the fragrance could be -- just basic curiosity. There are lots of things that are strong, that smell unusual or strange which people might view as 'bad'. But I got on to what I recall as things that I found to be simply awful. So, that's where we're going today.

There are two perfumes that really stand out on my awful-meter:

I recall trying a Karl Lagerfield creation in the early 1990s that probably stands out as the worst scrubber on me ever. I don't remember the name, though I think it had something to do with narcissus. In any case, it was crazy bad. Strong and sour, with a burned toast aspect. So totally unwearable for me that it made me itchy -- and makes me itcy now writing this.

I remember disliking Giorgio -- both the fragrance and the bottle. It was ubiquitous when I first joined the workforce (early 1980s), which was a time when people could still smoke inside buildings. The frequent combo of Giorgio and cigarette smoke was just mind-bendingly awful. Gag me with a spoon, per California Valley Speak.

Not quite on the awful-meter but certainly in the 'a little is too much' category for me is Perfumers' Workshop Tea Rose, which a college suite-mate wore. No matter how much of this she sprayed it was overwhelming -- and I generally like rose fragrances. Not lush, heady, etc -- just a sort of sweet toxic cloud. This was especially true on Saturday nights, when she went discoing with her boyfriend.

You'll notice that Thierry Mugler Angel doesn't make my list. In fact, I adore Angel -- and on the right chemistry I think it smells astonishingly beautiful (a former work colleague wore it beautifully).

So, what tips your awful-meter over the edge into toxic territory?

Defining pleasure or ... Defining and pleasure

Well. This has turned into a very busy day indeed. So, somewhat more brief than I had originally intended.

The Scent Gathering on Sunday afternoon: it was So.Much.Fun. I've been doing these gatherings for three-quarters of a year now and each one is different. I have to say the events have become one of my fave things about the new business.

Some of these have been quite serious; some have been a mixture of serious and giggles. Yesterday's was pure pleasure: lots of laughter.

The five adult women and two younger ones (a teenager and an 11 year old -- and boy did they have strong opinions) had a lot to say and we spent a whole lot of time being happy and amused. The fragrances got discussed -- and there was a fair bit of discussion about getting out of one's comfort zone and pushing the envelope by trying new things.  We even discussed the smell of Lynx Chocolate (no, I don't stock that).

There was also a lot of talk about why we use and how we pick perfumes. About how important this sort of smallish pleasure is to living a life. And a lot of smelling each others wrists, forearms and backs of hands.

After we'd made it through the 11 fragrances plus the new Tauer Orange Star (many oohs and ahhhs and hmmms...) there was a beat of silence and then everyone fell on to the cheese, crackers, fruit and brownies. Bending the mind to new perfumes is hard work ... and so much pleasure appears to whet the appetite.

Snail assistance ... and more later

Well, the Scent Gathering yesterday afternoon was a rather joyous event: lots of pleasure and laughter. I'll be posting on that later today.

First, however, I need some assistance. I went into the garden early this morning to visit the plants and ... snails! Loads and loads of snails. I'm afraid I pitched them over the wall as their presence makes me so cross (I know they need to eat too, but go find a big field full of stinging nettles, please, not my passionflower). In the past I've used the standard blue pellets to deter them. But, I need other ideas. If you have any experience/expertise with keeping the beasts away please please share it.

Briefly

Have to dive into paperwork today (have a vision of myself sitting on the rainbow striped rug in the living room surrounded by piles of stuff), so briefly.

One of Bee's comments on the leather post a few days back made me think of what I wore in the 1980s: YSL Opium right after uni (so for a year or so from 1983) and then L'Artisan Mure et Musc (in my late 20s). Before the Opium, I had a very brief fling with Ivoire de Balmain. Very very brief.

Opium was never really 'me', though I really enjoyed wearing it. It was perfect for the time (I recall a lot of visits to discos and getting very faced). Thinking of it reminded me of how that decade was definitely not about 'clean', 'light' or 'gentle' on the fragrance front.  

Also, I happened to love the advert with a very naked (strategic arms and hands) and luminous Sophie Dahl.

Oh, the time period was also about serious sillage. Lots and lots and lots of spraying.

I've got a Scent Gathering set for Sunday afternoon. So, that will be the focus of Monday's post. Got another planned for next Friday evening, which you will also hear about -- very definitely!

Now, off to make some tea and get lost under the paperwork.

Some lather on leather

I woke up a few mornings ago thinking about leather perfumes (don't think it was the same day I dreamt about immortelle). No good reason I can pinpoint, just did.

I mentioned to a friend that I would be blogging on leather fragrances and she commented that she had read the actor James Dean wore Knize 10 (she'd seen this on The Perfumed Court), which somehow seems very appropriate.

I've tried wearing leathers, but so far haven't found one that is 'love'. Still, quite a lot are seriously liked and appreciated -- and very much appreciated on other people.

At various times I've done Le Labo Patchouli 24 (well, birch tar), Piguet Bandit, and Malle Le Parfum de Therese (yes, there's leather in with the jasmine and melon accord).

I've tried Chanel Cuir de Russie and found I can appreciate the leather-floral melange, but I don't want to wear it.

I appreciate Tauer Perfumes' gorgeous Lonestar Memories. I especially like the geranium in there, which moderates the leather aspect a bit in a lovely herbal manner.

I love the idea of leather notes in perfumes -- and they are so different from fragrance to fragrance. The animalic aspect can be down- or up-shifted depending on what other notes it is teamed with.

Leather seems a decidedly adult note to me. And I haven't noticed it being key to mainstream fragrances, even mainstream men's scents (please point out if I have missed something on this). I wish more men would have a go at Cuir de Russie, Knize 10 or Lonestar rather than settling on something lighter and altogether less memorable.

I think some leathers fair better on a masculine chemistry, but that certainly isn't a rule. I know of a good number of women who have, at one time or another, embraced Bandit. And, I've seen mention on the perfume discussion boards by women of wearing Knize 10 -- and frequently Chanel Cuir de Russie (there seems especial love for the parfum version).

I think the leather-jasmine combo can be awesome. I wonder about leather and rose (would they 'eat' each other?).

I am deeply enamoured of fig in perfume and am not aware of anyone having played with leather and fig. Wonder how that would turn out.

Anyway, I recall having a bottle of Le Parfum de Therese years ago (I don't know what happened to it, which makes me sad and implies I did something really stupid with it) and wearing it only for serious work meetings or if I wanted to draw exceptional boundaries around myself. It was a beautiful scent, I enjoyed it immensely, but I definitely wasn't drawn to it for every day.

I don't think you necessarily need to feel 'hard core' to wear leather, but it's definitely not for those faint-hearted days.

You know you're a perfume obsessive...

I dreamt about immortelle the other night. In fact, the dream contained a rather complex conversation about mapping the 'fragrance' of immortelle. The discussion occurred with a number of people, all complete strangers, and I could smell the fragrance in the dream. I woke up -- this was a middle-of-the-night dream -- wide awake with a 'sense' of immortelle in my nose. Took a while to get back to sleep.

This was something of a first. I don't generally dream about perfume -- I have had a few buying and bottle dreams. I go through my day-to-day life obsessed by smells and pursuing them (I can't pass jasmine in bloom without stopping to smell; I stand like an idiot on street corners, nose uplifted sniffing bakery or even street smells; I follow fragrances in shops to find out what an interesting smell derives from). This dream, however, was a new aspect of things.

Immortelle is a newish love for me, so I guess that's why it's in the forefront of my subconscious. I've described my experience of it before, but I'll reiterate quickly. To me, this is animalic burnt caramel: an almost past-its-prime lush very slightly sweet floral fragrance. I'm fascinated by this.

I wonder about this used in a leather fragrance (I'll be posting on leather tomorrow). Would it tip things over the edge into sickening?

I wonder about it combined with plum -- or some other lush fruit. But, again, I'm afraid it would be awfully sweet and syrupy.

Perhaps it would work with lavender. But maybe the lavender would mitigate, in a bad way, the lushness of the immortelle.

Food for thought.

Sillage, or the pointlessness of a wound without the pleasure of a scar

I was contemplating pronunciations recently and for whatever reason came round to thinking about the word 'sillage', which is pronounced 'see-yage'. Most of the time I say it in english -- incorrectly, I know -- sounding the double L. I like the way the word sounds out of the mouth, like spilling, like the water coming off the water-wheel. Which is exactly the point of sillage from a perfume: that it spills out or reaches off the wearer.

To me, sillage is part and parcel of the ritual of perfume wearing. I don't buy a fragrance for it to be gentle, clean, quiet, etc. I want to smell it, to smell it on myself, to have other people be aware of it. I know this may be problematic for those with fragrance allergies, but in general I don't wear my scent so densely it might make a neighbouring person gag. However, I wear enough so that my perfume has a presence, so that it does indeed waft off me.

And I spray it (most of my fragrances are spray) in my hair at the nape of my neck, where it is both held on to me and dissipated via my hair meeting air.

The second part of the title of today's post comes from one of my favourite poems: Michael Ondaatje's 'The Cinnamon Peeler'. The exact quote follows:

...as if wounded without the pleasure of a scar...

My skin marks easily and I've always been secretly pleased with what was left over from a wound, even on my face. I'd be a bit wistful as a marking faded with time. As with being able to match my past fragrances with events, love affairs, etc, I can match scars to the event that caused them and the time/place when/where they occurred.

As I went back to the book of Selected Poems looking for the exact wording, I found that this poem falls under a heading, Skin Boat, as if the skin is vehicle for all kinds of things, including smell. Apt.

Now, my French is atrocious (I can manage being polite, which I think is important in any language), but I have seen the word 'touche' used for a paper blotter on which you spray scent for testing. That word, too, is quite evocative in its sound of what it is meant for: a 'touch' of perfume for the smelling.

Anyway, sillage. I took a look at the bottles of fragrance in my current rotation. I own no fruity-florals, fruit-chulis, colognes, skin scents. This isn't to say I reject all of the genre: I have great affections and respect for Miss Dior Cherie, for Angel, Aqua di Parma Colonia Absoluta, and on and on. But, all of what I am wearing currently fits in fairly heavy, dark, woody or resinous, and all waft -- really, a lot. Which, as I said earlier, is such the point.

March on www.perfumeposse.com has posted more on her recent Paris trip. Very interesting and worth a read -- and makes me positively rabid to get a day trip in before the end of the year.

On eucalyptus

The man-cub was watching Blue Peter (a UK children's programme) and one of the features was henna painting on skin. I think I was more fascinated by the process than he was. Rituals of all sorts really get me going and I wrote a very long and decidedly too personal post on my fascination with ritual which got canned.

Instead of that you get a meditation on eucalyptus.

Now that the paint and cleaning smell is only slight I've been using candles again. But recently I was reminded of the wonderful effect of big bunches of eucalyptus branches. Not only are these beautiful and long-lasting, they perfume the air in a room with a wonderful rough oily fragrance.

I think I first smelled eucalyptus on a trip to northern California around 25 years ago. In the forests north of Marin County you can see the redwood trees. I remember the wondrous huge, almost creature-like, redwoods, but was also really taken by the extraordinary smells of the forest, which turned out to be the much smaller trees with shimmery green-silver leaves.

When I lived in New York, you were able to get big bunches for not a lot of money from the many Oriental groceries around the city. So, I frequently had groups of stems in the bathrooms and bedrooms of wherever I lived.

I've used eucalyptus oil in my burner and I pop drops of it into just-boiled water to breathe in when I have a cold.

I have found no eucalyptus providers where I currently live in London. However, as the man-cub is off to a friend's house in Stoke Newington today I was reminded that I could procure stems from a shop called Flower on Stoke Newington Church Street (which I recall doing quite frequently when I lived in Stoke Newington years ago).

So, I am hoping to return this evening with a big bunch of stems to apportion to the bathroom and bedroom. I'm really looking forward to it.

A bit on Penhaligon Orange Blossom -- and some other things

Yesterday was on of the 'out' days of Easter hols, meaning the man-cub got hoiked away from the computer and DSi for a trip in the wilds of central London. When we do these, there's a mix of something for him, something for me. Otherwise, my brain short-circuits and we end up growling at each other.

This trip included a visit to the Courtauld gallery; lunch at a newish burrito joint called Tortilla; a shot into Penhaligon for a sample of Orange Blossom from the Anthology Collection; a run into Hamleys (across Regent Street) for man-cub to lust after the Wii he is saving up for; and a quick trip to the Hampstead tailor to pick up a pair of jeans made smaller which was combined with ice cream from Slice of Ice (he had passionfruit sorbet with mini marshmallows; I had dolce de leche toffee).

If you've never visited the Courtauld, I highly recommend it (and it's free entry if you can go on a Monday before 2 PM). It's a managable two floors and around 12 smallish gallery rooms. It's frequently uncrowded, so you can really see the paintings. The building is gorgeous too. There are some awesome Cezannes...

Tortilla is ok. Another (more downmarket) not terribly inspired burrito joint. The food is fine -- nothing more. The salsa is the equivalent of tepid, even the one labeled 'hot'. One day, I'm sure, someone will open a proper street-corner burrito place, with mind-bendingly hot salsa that makes you break out in a sweat. One day...

Anyway, then off to Penhaligon. I got my sample of Orange Blossom and sprayed on Amaranthine. I tried to get a sample of this, as I'd given mine away, but they were out. I've moojed on about this one: it is truly beautiful and I truly can't wear it (big sigh and alas). I smell it on my skin and think: this is sooo godawful gorgeous -- different, lush, sexy, animalic (all the things I desire in a perfume) -- but it is all, all wrong on me. Just.Wrong. God, if you can wear this, you are luckyluckylucky and you should go out now and buy a bottle, drench yourself, and walk down the street and see what happens. Then, you should write about it so other people will understand its attractions. 

Now, Orange Blossom. Not my thing. But, if you can 'do' soapy florals this one is beautiful and worth a visit. It has a very strong, 'true' floral fragrance. It is soapy in the wonderful way expensive hand-milled stuff can be. It captures the soft-but-very-there raunch of white flower perfume done well. Notes (per www.nstperfume.com) include neroli, violet leaves, bergamot, cedrat, cardamom, pink pepper, orange, jasmine, tuberose, rose, peach blossom, orchid, sandalwood, cedar, white musk and vanilla.

On me, this is sort of floral-musky-soap. It is quite light, but with an underlying heft. I can't imagine I'll break out my sample at all often. Still, glad to have tried it.

Orange Blossom would be perfect for a hot summer's night. Gently carnal.

I think you can all live without a play-by-play of the Hamleys visit.

The walk home from Hampstead went past Golders Hill Park, where the magnolia, flowering cherry and forsythia are all coming out. Lovely. That's another place worth visiting if you venture to north-west London. There's a good cafe and a pergola with formal gardens to wander through.

A PS: Angela from NowSmellThis and March from PerfumePosse have been blogging about their recent visit to Paris. I am groaning with desire to do a visit of my own, even if it's just a one-day-er. Wonderful stuff.

Hurrah!

Finally, the house fixes are finished. No more painting, patching or intense cleaning for a while (I hope). The last big 'thing' was repainting the steps to the first floor: from pale robin's egg blue to darker petrol blue. Not entirely sure on the effect, but it's done and it definitely shows less wear.

For a whole full day the house has not stunk of paint or cleaner of some sort. Phew!

The weather has been incredibly helpful, meaning I've been able to keep the doors and windows open to help dissipate the stench.

I also planted some red petunias and blue delphinium (not together -- I don't really like red and blue right near each other) to fill out the garden a bit. It still needs a bit of 'something' but I'm going to let the new flowers stretch themselves and see where we are in a few weeks.

Spring seems to be sticking, thank goodness. Even if it's cloudy at least it's not terribly cold. The sun has been out consistently for the past four days. I haven't seen any lily of the valley yet, but I'm hoping soon.

I went through my sample box to find something full of spring to talk about. This is what happened next.

I pulled several things out and put them on. I sniffed my wrist and forearm. I had a wander through The Guide for info on one of the fragrances. I wrote a whole long post that was nonsensical and which I deleted.

Tomorrow, among the things to be accomplished: I will procure a sample of the new Penhaligon orange flower fragrance and I will say something useful about that on Wednesday.

In the meantime, please tell me three things:

1) What are you breaking out scent-wise to wear with the coming of spring?

2) What new (or even not-so-new) perfumes are you aching to try?

3) I need a treat to mark the finishing of the house-stuff focus. I'm thinking a manicure at the London College of Beauty's salon (mani for around £12 because someone is using you for practice). Although I've mostly worn gloves for all the heavy painting and cleaning I haven't always been well-behaved and my hands need some tending. However, if you have another idea I am very open to suggestions.

Waxing lyrical

The house has been upside down for almost two weeks now. First, I was painting upstairs, which meant 1) a house stinking of paint and 2) sleeping downstairs on the couch for around six nights.

Then, it was painting under the stairs, where new sheetrock had to be plastered in after some of the steps were fixed (the treads were separating from the uprights, which meant gaps). To do the painting there, the fridge, which lives in the space under the stairs (don't ask -- it makes sense when you see it) was living in the middle of the kitchen and the cook books, which live on top of the kitchen bookcase, were inhabiting the kitchen table in order for the bookcase to be lighter and movable.

Soooo, on Thursday morning, the fridge finally returned to its home under the stairs and the kitchen table got cleared of books.

When I unearthed the surface of my lovely pine table all I could think of was giving it a coat of bees wax. It cried out for some tender lovin' care. I coated and wiped, and coated and wiped. Then, it got to air a bit. Finally, I returned the candles to the table and got on with other house tasks. Now, it just needs a vase of flowers or a pot of something about to bloom (will take care of that today).

All the while, each time I passed the table to get to the washing machine, to hang laundry out back, to clean windows I got a whiff of bees wax: tangy waxy astringency with a small whisper of lemony sweetness. Phenomenally good smell.

I think I'll re-wax the table over the weekend because it smells so good.

Anyway, we've had a run of good weather, so part of today we're off to Hampstead Heath. The man-cub needs exercising and I need good green air after all the goo I've breathed in. We'll start at what I perceive to be the bottom of the Heath, around Gospel Oak, and work our way up to Hampstead Village, where there are fancy cafes for a latte and cake, a SpaceNK for a quick sniff of something, and the Hampstead fruit and veg stall.

And, I think I'll make us walk home -- a good 45 minutes.

Enjoy the sun!

The joys of a bath

I think I've mentioned before how much I love water -- to bathe in (yes, and to drink). During winter, a bath is where I warm up for the day and wind down in the evening. I can manage without two a day, but as I've aged they've become much more important and pleasurable. My mum was bath obsessed, so maybe it's in the genes.

Anyway, I was having a chat with my friend Maureen and she was talking about cheap treats and how she was in search of bath oils (this was when their hot water went on the fritz and Maur couldn't have her longed-for weekend baths -- the shower still worked, as it operates via a separate electrical system).

So, I had recently been on a bath oil hunt and come up with a Kiehl's limited edition rose and pomegranate mixture that smells almost medicinal and is truly wonderful. I don't usually use oil in bath, but Carter, a frequent contributer to Perfume Posse, had mentioned the best way to do your nails was to whack on loads of colour, let the stuff dry and then take a hot bath in an oiled up tub. Doing this allows you to peel the excess polish off the skin surrounding your nails, leaving you with a close to perfect manicure. Genius! So, I went in search of a bath oil I would love.

Now, Maur likes l'Occitane Verbena stuff, but I don't recall this coming in bath oil. She was wondering about the Ren Maroccan Rose Otto, which I've used in the past and found to be a truly gorgeous rose fragrance. So, that was a definite 'yes'.

I also suggested Neal's Yard stuff, including the exotic oil, which is full of wonderful flower essences and smells exceptionally sexy.

I also recall using Dr Hauschka oils, including something that might have been strong on the rosemary.

I've never had the Jo Malone experience, but if the fragrances of her candles is anything to go by these could be awesome.

Lastly, although I can't wear Ormonde Jayne stuff, I know her candles to be supreme and would expect any bath oil products to be equally as gorgeous. I checked the website and it appears that most of the fragrances also come in oil formulation.

So, light some candles and get soaking!

Guerlain Habit Rouge ... and a cannoli

A quick run through John Lewis in central London resulted in the testing of Guerlain's masculine Habit Rouge. Some quick sprays to the wrist and some heavy spraying on a blotter. Then, zoom out of the store and on to the bus.

Originally released in 1965, this, like many other fragrances with some history, has experienced some serious changes.

Straight off, although I am perfectly happy to wear fragrances marketed as masculines, this turned out to be a serious no go. Citrus, but man a weird citrus. Odd, odd, odd on me.

According to the wondrous Luca Turin in The Guide, this is an orange flower and opoponax combo which he has dubbed, in a truly great tag line, sweet dust (now, I truly love these two-word descriptives, even if they're not quite fitting -- see, you've got to want to try something labeled 'sweet dust'). Now, sweet dust sounds like a really inviting and interesting idea. Really perks the curiousity.

But, uh, no, not on me. More towards Lemon Pledge: citrus and waxy.

I could see this being good on someone, probably on lots of people, but not my chemistry.

Cobbled notes list (per NSTPerfume, but my synopsis): orange blossom, leather, carnation/clove, vanilla, incense and amber. Apparently the current version of the fragrance is a very different animal notes-wise to the original.

Anyway, I can't really say much about the development of this, as it disappears from my skin literally a half hour after spraying. The blotter retains the Lemon Pledge aspect for a good long time, though. After around three hours (on the blotter) the Pledge-ness recedes somewhat, leaving a gently fresh smell, which remains for a verrrry lonnnnggg time. 

Turin and Sanchez give this five stars in The Guide and I'll have to take their word for it: a serious reminder of to each his/her own when it comes to what you love and appreciate when it comes to perfume.

Prior to the run through John Lewis, we had lunch at Sfizi, one of the places I found that has my beloved cannolis.

This is a short walk from the British Museum and is a very nice place for a meal. The pizza is very good -- thin crust variety. The man-cub had pasta and kept wanting bits of the pizza (meaning, I would suggest sticking with the pizza).

He had home made vanilla ice cream for dessert which he didn't finish (too sweet, mummy, I don't like it). The cannoli was good. Very enjoyable. However, not quite what you get in Carroll Gardens or at Ferdinando's Foccaceria. So, the search continues.

A little bit of wow-wee ... and is there a change in the air?

For the over ten years I've been living in the UK I've been doing most of my clothes shopping on holidays to the US or via my father (sending him links to items, which he would order). Most of what I own comes from Banana Republic and JCrew, plus a few other odd places. I know what fits me and suits my frame -- and the price points in dollars can't be beat.

Well, since we got a Banana Republic at Brent Cross I've been in exactly once. Still, it's nice to know it's there. Now, though, we're going to have access to JCrew ... via net-a-porter. Interesting arrangement. This should start in May and I wonder what it's going to do to the prices. I've had my eye on a JCrew dress for ages now (I try to wait until their sales, which are stupendous: got a gorgeous petrol blue velvet jacket for a song before Xmas). The markup at Banana Republic isn't that bad (it's terrible at GAP: jeans that are decidedly affordable in the US are decidedly up-market here).

Anyway, I'm still looking forward to seeing how the JCrew/net-a-porter arrangement plays out.

And then there was TKMaxx. I breeze through the one near Brent Cross every once in a while just to have a look-see. The big one near Whole Foods (I think that's it) in Kensington is awesome. I don't buy often, though. Mostly, I look and sometimes hanker after something I seriously can't have.

A few days ago when I visited the Brent Cross outpost they had Missoni dresses ... like, lots of knit dresses ... for a deep discount. Alas, the deep discount (eg, down to £150 from unmentionable numbers) still meant I wasn't going to be purchasing right now. But, that's a way good price for something that was truly beautiful.

Now, TKMaxx usually has loads of deeply discounted fragrances as well. I troll through these each visit just out of perversity because I've never seen anything I really want.

So. There we go. We'll see what the sitch is with JCrew come May and get yourself to your local TKMaxx so I can enjoy your Missoni find vicariously.

On to the change in the air. I'm sure I smell a difference in the past few days vs a week ago. It's as if the air has softened and greened up a bit. Am I imagining it?

Yesterday was egg hunt and the weather co-operated beautifully. Lots of pretty eggs to be had by lots of children. Plus home-baked scones and brownies, tea and champagne.

I think one of the Easter hols activities is going to have to be a visit to Kew Gardens. That, for sure, will tell me whether my air change thing is real or imagined.

No shy retiring flower this

Lily of the valley is one flower that really makes me believe we've entered spring properly. It is among my favourite flowers, along with tuberose, violet and jasmine. And while LOTV hasn't been particularly good on me in perfumes, I still love the smell of it in fragrance.

Years ago, for a brief period, I wore one of the best known lily of the valley perfumes: Dior's Diorissimo, which was launched in 1956 (the nose was Edmond Roudnitska). The 'issimo' is truly apt regarding this fragrance: it is LOTV to the max. And, it is very very beautiful.

My yearning for spring got me thinking about LOTV, which definitely isn't out yet. So, I decided to revisit Diorissimo to see what I would think of it now.

A small digression: years ago, I recall reading that Mick Jagger doesn't like Diorissimo. Thought you might be interested in that.

Anyway, I sprayed the EdT on me and a blotter.

First thing I noticed, which I definitely didn't get first time round: this is indolic (see why in notes list below). However much lily of the valley looks sweet and innocent, it damn well doesn't smell like it. This is definitely lowered eye lids and sultry.

So, I started off with a sort of 'wow'. The fragrance began with a lovely strong LOTV aspect and some green -- and straight off it 'felt' animalic. Not cumin-ish (ie, not overtly dirty knickers), not deep musky (ie, not in-your-face pongy), but definitely something hot, well-used skin in there.

As it developed, the lily of the valley remained absolutely front and centre, but joined by some buttery floral (ylang ylang) and jasmine.

On the blotter, the LOTV remains very strong and there is actually something citrus, with less pong.

Notes list for this includes greens, bergamot, lily of the valley, ylang ylang, rosewood, amaryllis, boronia, jasmine, sandalwood and civet (per www.nowsmellthis.com).

So, civet... and sandalwood... goes a ways to explaining the hot aspect.

As it dries down on me this gets slightly sweet. I wonder if that is just the EdT. Apparently you can get this in EdP and even parfum (though I would think a stand-alone Dior store would be the best destination).

This test confirmed to me that I can't wear this -- along the same lines as most white flower fragrances. However, I appreciate it much more this time round and found myself wonderfully surprised and pleasured by the animalic aspects as well as the truly stupendous floral mixture. If you're not into cumin or heavy-duty animalics but still want seductive and womanly this is definitely worth seeking out.