Cryptic

Angel lumbered onto the perfume scene in the early 1990s, trampling wimpy aquatics and waifish florals in its path like Dumbo the big blue elephant. In retrospect, Angel's launch marked the beginning of the slow rise of sweet, gourmand perfumes and the corresponding rejection by the masses of sourish oakmoss chypres, although the IFRA certainly played a part in their demise.

If you love Angel as I sometimes do, it is a ground-breaking, brilliant fusion of masculine and feminine, light and darkness that deserves a place alongside the likes of Coty's Chypre and Shalimar. However, familiarity inevitably breeds contempt, and after being smothered by Angel applied without restraint, as well as its legion of imitators, Angel often strikes me as a demonic combination of cheap candy, spoiled fruit and mothballs. Say what you will about Angel, it is impossible to be indifferent to this perfume's beauty/ugliness.

In case you were wondering, the title of this review is directed at Luca Turin's famous scathing review of Love in White contained in The Guide wherein he states that he'd rather have lice than wear this frag. Although I laughed, that review got me curious as to what could provoke that kind of scorn. Initially I chalked it up to a hatred of all things Creed, but after browsing his reviews of the rest of the line I noticed that Turin does praise some Creed perfumes, albeit rather grudgingly. I eventually decided that Luca dislikes what he calls "overexposed florals," which would include Love in White and Amouage Reflection Woman, for example. Apparently, he doesn't care for the kind of sharp floral bouquet you sometimes get with magnolia, freesia and narcisscus, and he's certainly entitled to that opinion.

For me, it's impossible not to like Love in White. The first note out of the bottle is orange zest, the smell of which I love so much that I find excuses to put it into all kinds of things when I'm cooking. Granted, this frag would be more balanced if something else was present to equalize the tartness of the citrus in the top notes, but I'm really not complaining. The florals in the heart of this frag are certainly bright and sparkling, and not something that I'd want to wear when all dressed in black and in one of my brooding moods. However, even the moodiest of us have days when we're feeling outdoorsy, optimistic or pleased with life in general and Love in White would be suitable for enhancing that sort of vibe. I can detect the Tonkin rice note that is mentioned in the Creed pr, but it really doesn't add anything in my opinion. The base notes are actually the best part of the composition, and turn this fairly wholesome, well-scrubbed frag into something more sensual and earthy. All in all, Love in White failed to live up to its bad reputation. Give it a try if you like a sharp floral with some citrus.

With a little more sillage and longevity Ormonde Jayne Woman could be my Holy Grail. However, I have yet to try the parfum concentration and have high hopes that it may have that extra potency.

I have always been attracted to green fragrances and felt they had something of a cerebal vibe. Pine forest fragrances have tended to let me down, though. So often a heavy-handed conifer note conjures up those nasty little tree-shaped air fresheners that people hang from the rear view mirrors of their cars. It's even worse when a frag reminds me of Pine Sol (a cleaning product), which is as synthetic and oily a noxious scent as you will ever smell. Enter OJW with its Black Hemlock note. Why aren't more parfumers using this brilliant stuff?! In combination with grass oil as it is in OJW, black hemlock is bright and subtle, lending just enough conifer scent to make you feel as if you were in the forest as opposed to being assaulted by it.

The floral notes of jasmine and violet are background players but essential nonetheless, as they lend depth and complexity. Coriander and cardamom give warmth in the opening, which is maintained throughout by a generous dose of gorgeous, cuddly amber.

I don't consider OJW to be a feminine frag at all, if such a thing even exists. This scent is tailor made for a hot smart person of either sex; maybe a little aloof but all the more sexy for it. I don't always agree with Turin and Sanchez, but they sure got it right when they gave OJW five stars. Sillage and longevity are good, but my only complaint is that I would expect them to be excellent at this price.

Sunflowers was introduced in the early '90s, a time when fashion consisted of grunge and Prada-influenced minimalism and somber colours. I'm not surprised that it became a hit against this background, because Sunflowers is about as uplifting as perfume gets. While wearing it I never think, "Damn, I smell great," it's more that I simply feel more upbeat for having sprayed some on. Great perfume it is not. The top notes of melon, lemon, peach, etc. contain something piercingly synthetic that never fails to wrinkle my nostrils. Nevertheless, there is a dash of oakmoss and other dusky notes that balance the exuberant fruit and florals, thereby elevating Sunflowers out of the realm of body sprays and into the world of proper perfume. I wore it today to snap out of the kind of dreariness that comes with a week of on and off torrential rain, and it hasn't let me down. Sunflowers is so inexpensive that I would recommend giving it a shot, especially since it has fairly good longevity and sillage. Like me, you may find yourself a cheap little mood lifter.

When I heard that Amouage was launching a white floral, I was afraid that Honour would be something like Amarige on steroids: loud and proud and way too big for my liking. Also, I was a bit confused by the fact that the fragrance was inspired by the Con Onor Muore (To Die With Honor) aria from Madame Butterfly. Huh??? Ever since seeing the movie Fatal Attraction, I've associated that aria with a crazy woman sitting on the floor and flicking the lights on and off whilst listening to loud opera. At the very least, I was expecting Honour to be somewhat melancholy a la Mitsouko based on the inspiration material.

Imagine my surprise when Honour turned out to be soft and stunningly beautiful in a totally understated way. I've never come across a more heavenly combination of gardenia, tuberose, jasmine and lily of the valley in my perfume travels, and since acquiring it, Honour has become my most-complimented fragrance. The tuberose in Honour has been tweaked to eliminate the more in-your-face aspects that make Fracas difficult to wear, at least for me. Unlike Carnal Flower, Honour aims for a cinematic white floral as opposed to an accurate representation of a single flower.

In addition to the gorgeous white flowers, Honour features some rhubarb in the top notes that lends a fresh green feeling, as well as vetiver and incense in the base notes which make for a lovely drydown. Sillage is moderate and longevity is excellent. Warning: Honour contains a rogue note that has been variously described as aquatic, melon and pond water. If you find that sort of marine note revolting, you probably should give Honour a pass.