ScentFan

This masterful sillage monster is my kind of perfume, a conglomeration of richnesses—the Birch Tar and Lemon that give Shalimar Extrait its unique edge, the Oakmoss and Labdanum of our once grand, but now EU-enfeebled Chypres, the densely fruity, smoky allure of plum pudding. Use more than one spray and you will reek, but gloriously. I was gifted it blind and was not disappointed. Neither was hubby, source of the gift. Yes, it’s overdone, like midnight is on a snowy night, marshmallows roasting over a bonfire, but my senses yearn for such nights. Three sprays for me to permit marinating.

I tried to love this fragrance which House of Matriarch just re-marketed as if it were new and I fell for all the hoopla. It is leathery. Yes. It is dark. Yes. It is rich. All true. However, I am left with an indelible impression. Shoe polish. My husband said he shined shoes for extra money in his youth and that’s what came to mind. I smelled again and sure enough. An expensive bottle of shoe polish I probably won’t wear. Hate to say this because I love HoM. Putting on skin. Sniffing again just to be sure...okay, well, modification—beautiful shoe polish. Divine, actually. Smoky and woody plum pudding sort of thing for a bit. Maybe I’d wear it after all. To a seance at a castle in the dark of winter. No need to wear it to an orgy. Things will smell like this soon enough.

This has languished in my collection since I bought it years ago after reading the previous review and I suppose mine isn't really necessary. But instead of just saying, "what Coutureguru said," I'll address what to me has become a vital topic. This is a REAL Damascene Rose. It isn't synthetic. It doesn't smell like a gas station or a paint factory. This is perfume as it once was. . . primarily natural and blended by someone who gave a d*/*n about our noses. Because we perfumistas and perfumistos have been abandoned by so many of the formerly great houses, I'm trying to make my own all-natural perfumes for personal use. However, I found natural essential oils, absolutes and such so frightfully expensive that I had to go even deeper. On their way to me this instant from the UK are a whole lot of dried orange blossoms. I'm making my own essential oil instead of paying upwards of $200 an ounce for it here, and the same goes for rose oil. When the spectacular Eternity Red Roses that currently grace my kitchen island in a vase are almost done, into the grapeseed oil their petals go! Meanwhile, thanks BioFresh, whoever you are, for giving us real perfume. This one languishes no more.

I hunted down a vintage bottle and there is no comparison whatsoever to this 1993 Fleur de Rocaille (no s) version, which misses the former’s bergamot, carnation, musk, and rosewood. Unfortunate, because without them the wicked stepsisters, narcissus and lily-of-the-valley enter and stomp all over Cinderella’s pretty gown. To me, this version doesn't live up to the rest of Caron.

I decided to sniff through my nips--those tiny glass tubes of vintage perfume samples used as giveaways from about 1930-1950. Not a single aromachemical in this simple but finely blended floral, just real jasmine, orange blossom and rose counterpointed by lily of the valley, a good dose of oakmoss and musk in the base. Grace Mary Chess founded her company in 1932 in New York and created her perfumes herself of natural ingredients. Tapestry was the most famous. I found it so charming I went online and bought a couple of the miniatures still available since I'm sure I'd like to smell like this again.