Category Archives: Cologne

“What is most intimate is what will speak to others. Perfumers build the labyrinth in which we lose ourselves out of all those secret harmonies and connections. They bring out its beauty: reinvent it so that it can be felt by all.” – Denyse Beaulieu, ‘The Perfume Lover’

For the occasion of my first COVID-19 vaccination shot, I chose a very special cologne – ‘Straight to Heaven’ By Kilian – and despite its awful, cheesy name, it held exceptional meaning. This is the fragrance I was planning on bringing to New York for our weekend at the Plaza, which was not to be. As part of Skip’s birthday celebration, it harkened to his 40th birthday party – at which I also wore this scent. As such, it’s imbued with happy memories of friends and celebrations, and days that feel a little to far away. It’s precisely for that reason that I sprayed it on before heading to SUNY for my first vaccine shot: this was a way of clearing the path back to such happy celebrations and gatherings. It was the fragrance of hope. 

It brought back a lot of sorrowful thoughts as well, of all the time and moments we might have spent with loved ones over the past year. If we’d only locked down and all worn masks for three months or so – but we couldn’t do that. If only everyone was getting the vaccine and working toward herd immunity – but we aren’t all doing that. If only we’d have the sense and made the sacrifice for the greater collective like they did in New Zealand, where they can be open and hug and go the movies and sporting events. Instead, we have a rip in our country with the ignorant and selfish that take their spring breaks, defy the sense and factual information of science, and take the law into their own armed hands. 

But on this day, when the sun rose and the temperatures along with it, when the scent of spring was on the wind, and this magical cologne rose from the inner crook of my elbow, I chose the side of hope. I chose to celebrate the first step toward returning to the normal we once accompanied by the wisdom we have gained. 

Thirsty for that Savannah cocktail of magic, mystery and beauty, I sprayed a memory-inducer to bring it all back to my mind. Jo Malone’s ‘Mimosa & Cardamom’ was a purchase made for a Savannah trip – something to wear during the brightness of the day (a ‘Willow’ frag would round out the evenings). Sweet, bright, and sparkling with the spicy undertow of the barely-there cardamom, it’s a perfect early-spring scent, and went well with those seductive Savannah mornings which I’ve been missing so much.

“He was, by the way, the most liberally-perfumed man I had ever encountered. The scent announced his approach from a great distance, and lingered for many minutes after he had gone.” ~ The Grand Budapest Hotel

With Valentine’s Day quickly approaching, and the long nights of winter still mostly ahead rather than behind us, it seems a good time to bring up this oft-desired bottle of fragrance in the event that anyone is looking for gift ideas. ‘Portrait of a Lady’ takes its name from the Henry James novel, and its scent from the incense that surrounds the base of a rose in some gorgeous Gothic cathedral. It is the exquisite stuff of dark nights lit only by candles and stars and perhaps the sparkle of freshly-fallen snow, when fire licks at the nose and smoky tendrils of incense trail in baroque fashion as fleeting as a Victorian man of mode.

My parents gifted me with a rose fragrance fit for a bright winter’s day in ‘Rose & Cuir’ by Frederic Malle. Its dirty, older, sexier cousin in the Malle line is ‘Portrait of a Lady’ – which is really only fit for the night. Since all of our nights are spent in right now, this would be a lovely way to generate a different sort of luxury in solitude. Too many people wear a scent for others when it should really be for the sole enjoyment of oneself. ‘Portrait of a Lady’ is that kind of decadence brought into potently fragrant form, and it was created by one of my favorites, Dominique Ropion, who is the mastermind behind ‘Cologne Indelebile‘ and ‘Geranium Pour Monsieur‘.

I’ve been flirting with this scent for years. At first it was too much – the name, the rose, the lingering potency – I wasn’t at the point where I could handle it. About a year ago, it whispered to me differently, or more likely I was just in a different head-space to appreciate its dark beauty. Since then, I’ve been fighting how much I’ve come around to it, and rather than wondering at my reticence I’m full-on embracing its seductive pull.

“It’s the time that you spent on your rose that makes your rose so important… People have forgotten this truth, but you mustn’t forget it. You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed. You’re responsible for your rose.” ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Leave it to Jean Claude Ellena to bring a sliver of summer into the first flush of winter. When the metallic gray tint of snow carries on the sky, the idea of a rose may feel far and distant, but Ellena’s exquisite ‘Rose & Cuir’ for Frederic Malle defies the seasonal doldrums, injecting a fresh, bright glint of glorious summer spark into the day.

With its notes of rose and green freshness, a verdant lush garden dream comes to olfactory existence. ‘Rose & Cuir’ is a wonderful start to the day, a morning greeter that kick-starts the nose and thrills the memories of summer. Like the rich earth that gives sustenance and home to the roots of a thorny young rose, this scent begins with a dirty blast – the Cuir – which I detect in the opening intro, and a couple of times later on, but this is mostly a gorgeously watery floral that blossoms into a green herbaceous jewel, set in an almost invisible setting of leather that gives it just enough edge to keep it away from the powdery side of perfume.

This could have possibly found a home in Ellena’s Jardin series for Hermes, but it’s so good it deserves its stand-alone status as part of the Frederic Malle house. I might even be tempted to make the claim that ‘Rose & Cuir’ surpasses that Hermes line, which always tended to be a little too sweet for my bitter preferences. Here, it’s a grounded bit of herbaceous beauty, a greenhouse-like respite in the midst of trying winter.

This is when a fragrance becomes more than accessory to show off or leave a lingering trail in your office wake; this is an instant way to brighten a day when you’re alone and trying to face the gray overcast winter on your own. In the stillness and silence of such a morning, when the winter wants to creep into your home, into your soul, the simple spritz of this immediately conjures vistas of rose gardens and summer days and suddenly even the winter becomes a thing of beauty. It is at such times that fragrance can become a work of art.

“Won’t you come into the garden? I would like my roses to see you.” ~ Richard Brinsley Sheridan

For an extra dash of decadence in a holiday season largely devoid of such excess, I give you a pairing that is a favorite at this time of the year: Tom Ford’s ‘Oud Wood’ and ‘Santal Blush’. On their own, they are exquisite – taken together, they become absolutely divine. The resinous woody aspect of ‘Oud Wood’ intertwines gloriously with the sandalwood of the ‘Santal Blush’, tempering the latter’s sweetness and bringing out that lovely woodsy feel. It is very much a pairing for the festive season of light, when you want to sparkle not only in visage but in scent as well. 

Normally I would warn against mixing scents, but Ford’s Private Blends are an exception, if you are careful about what you are doing. I tend to pair those who have a few note sin common – most of the Neroli line mingle with one another magnificently, as do all of his Oud offerings. But there is glory to be found in the unexpected as well – I once put ‘Santal Blush’ together with ‘Tuscan Leather‘ which originally sounded like a disaster – and it ended up being a powerful delight. 

The House of Creed provides the fragrance that kicks off this year’s holiday season. A birthday gift from this past summer, I’ve held onto it, keeping patient and calm as much as I wanted to break this bad boy open and spritz away ~ it is such a delicious scent. But don’t take my fumbling words for it ~ read what the official literature says about ‘Royal Oud’, from the House of Creed:

Wood, leather, marble, and gold. These luxurious elements of a Persian palace are the inspiration behind the architecture of Royal Oud. Precious, sweet oud is carefully extracted from agarwood trees, a carefully-guarded resource that grows only in certain parts of India. Oud’s rarity lends to the expense of the fragrance’s coveted raw materials, prized by both the men and women who wear it. A fashionable favorite amongst today’s royals and heads of state, Royal Oud’s universal blend bottles the splendor of palace life across continents.

Oddly enough, it’s not the oud that hits hardest with this one. It opens a bit dirty for me, in as elegant and royal a way as dirty can sometimes be, and for that reason alone I was instantly in love with it. In a year when we remain stuck at home for the most part, this is the time to wear something polarizing, to try and experiment, to challenge one’s olfactory comfort zone in an environment not bound by office courtesy or public decorum.

‘Royal Oud’ is a big banging bomb of a scent in the best possible way, and it’s absolutely sublime for the start of the holidays. With its woody and musky heart, which I get from the opening blast as well, this is a glorious doozy. The beginning is sparked and softened by a warm spicy element with some lovely pink pepper brightened in jewel-like splendor with lemon and Sicilian bergamot. 

Sumptuous and refined, with that sparkling kernel of underlying dirtiness lending it a little wink, ‘Royal Oud’ is a warmer offering from Creed, which often veers a little cold and clinical for my liking. This one smolders in dramatic fashion, a little messy and a little opulent ~ royalty reborn.

Out of boredom and isolation, I did something I always advise against doing: a blind fragrance buy. In this case it was a bottle of Aesop’s ‘Tacit’ which is absolutely my new favorite summer scent, so the stupid and moronic gamble paid off. It doesn’t usually work out that way, so be wary. The literature on ‘Tacit’ sounded glorious (Jo Malone‘s combo of Basil and Neroli has always been an unexpectedly enjoyable whimsy, one much I may have to revisit to enhance this basil experience). 

Tacit was born of two key inspirations: the fresh notes of traditional colognes and the culture, topography and fragile perfumed vegetation of the Mediterranean coast. It is familiar in its Yuzu-inspired citrus notes, yet innovative in inclusion of Basil to deliver a green accord with delicate spicy clove-like undertones.

I love a citrus scent for summer, even if I know they won’t last. Issey Miyake’s take on yuzu is a collegiate bottle of summer I once used for a Yuzu Summer Party (yes, we’ve had parties centered around a citrus and a cologne, what’s the question?) Hermes does a delicious grapefruit with their Eau de pamplemousse rose, and there is a Grapefruit Lime concoction by The 7 Virtues that is divine.

Tacit combines the citrus-zest of yuzu with the green, herbal essence of basil, which pushes it into slightly fruitier territory, wrapped up in the one part that was the biggest gamble for me – vetiver. I hadn’t been a big fan of vetiver since a downstairs neighbor in my college years wore it, and wore it badly. Those kinds of experiences tint and shade our fragrance views, whether warranted or not. I did not return to it until Tom Ford coaxed me into a winter try with his ‘Grey Vetiver’ and I realized if done with a citrus I could handle it. Happily, it also holds true for ‘Tacit’.

That yuzu and basil combination is perfect for summer, and the vetiver propels it into something that lasts – not usually a requisite for this season’s scent, when you don’t want a heavy fragrance to stick. It retains a freshness for a couple of hours, and you won’t mind a reapplication because it’s that delightfully effervescent. 

I don’t love New York City.

There, I said it. (Even if I’m missing it a bit these days.)

I’ve been visiting periodically since I was a kid, but I have yet to fall in love with it. Mostly it’s because the things I love to do (theater and shopping and eating) are often closest to the things I hate most (crowds and tourists and Times Square). Still, I have grown to having a great fondness for certain elements of the city, particularly those fanciful edges of Central Park, where storied histories of places like the Plaza and Tiffany’s brush with modern day whimsy if you catch the light and the moment just right. Such magical alchemy was in mixing mode a few years ago when my Mom and I were visiting on one of our Broadway weekends for Mother’s Day. We had split up in the gender-designated buildings of Bergdorf Goodman and I was perusing the handsome cologne section, where curved glass and wood provided elegant carriage and support for all of Tom Ford’s Private Blends. On this day, however, there was nothing new in Ford’s olfactory world, and the salesperson was instead edging me toward what was then called By Kilian – a line of obscenely-priced bottles that promised various sensual experiences with names like ‘Straight to Heaven‘ or ‘Flower of Immortality’ or the one she was pushing on me now, ‘Bamboo Harmony’.

Having just come in from the street, on a day when the sun was brilliant but bordering on just too hot when all that surrounds you is concrete, I was looking for something light and fresh, something to loosen the claustrophobic debris of the city. As she waved the sample card in the air, I fell instantly in love with the refreshing and delicate aroma of white tea wafting about as it dissipated into the refined and rarefied air of Bergdorf Goodman. Not in a financial position to splurge on anything so decadent, I pocketed the sample card, thanked her profusely, and made my way back onto Madison to find Mom.

The verdant glow of Central Park was in the distance, the sun was still shining, and a glorious spring afternoon in New York was at hand. It was the closest I would come to loving the city, and it was close enough. It was also a revelation – the way a whiff of a scent could open up a portal to light and space and freshness even in the middle of the most crowded city in the country.

I thought of ‘Bamboo Harmony’ when our state suddenly found itself in the midst of a stay-at-home shutdown, and the abstract notion of feeling confined suddenly fell into concrete, home-bound form. I remembered the way it had instantly changed the day, transforming the crowded and cramped notion of New York City into something breezy and effervescent. Surely if a scent could produce such results in the face of soaring, skyscraping omnipotence, then it might do the same with any slight hint of restless confinement I might be feeling at home.

It arrived as a 10^thanniversary present from Andy, and on that sunny morning, before I even turned the laptop on for the start of another work-at-home day, I sprayed a small spritz on my wrist. Once again, harmony was instantly conjured. The walls disappeared, the darkness lifted, and any close-quartered tension evaporated. A forest of sky-high bamboo floated before me, alternately kissed and obscured by the peaceful veils of passing clouds, delicately undulating in the slightest of breezes. The heavenly top notes of bergamot and neroli are there, in the barest and best of ways, not strangling anything with sweetness, and then the tea scent emerges, along with some fig and oakmoss that lends the proceedings an earthy green element in perfect keeping with their intended bamboo connotations.

Is this what bamboo really smells like? Not at all.

Does it matter? Not in the least.

We live in the imagined realm of a floating world; reality is far too dark and dreary to confront without a cape of fragrance billowing off our shoulders.

I’ve never worn cologne for other people. I wear it solely for myself. Well that’s not entirely true – I did wear Calvin Klein’s ‘Eternity’ for the benefit of an ex-girlfriend who said she loved it. But after that, I wore what I liked, and to hell with anyone who didn’t appreciate it. That came to mind as I was contemplating a new cologne. My mind has been tempted by a few selections for spring, when suddenly I had a brief moment of wondering what point there would be with nowhere to wear it. This same thought has stopped me from buying new clothes of late (gasp!), but as I worked through the idea I realized I have never worn cologne for anyone other than me, and I’m still here. No reason not to smell good, especially when cooped up in the house. In fact, one could argue that now is the best time to order a new cologne! So let’s have at it. I never did get a proper Valentine’s Day gift… Here are the options, and I’m leaning toward the third one in case you’re narrowing it down:

Tom Ford – One of his very first Private Blends has been calling to me, and the call is getting progressively louder and more insistent. I think I must have ‘Tobacco Vanille’ and sooner rather than later. 

Frederic Malle – This fragrance house is teasing me with its ‘Portrait of a Lady’ – a scent said to be favored by none other than Madonna, but unlike some of her treacly tuberose choices, this is a smoky rose that is divinity incarnate.

Kilian – So it really comes down to this, because Kilian is the house behind one of the most exquisite scents I own. The offerings previously mentioned, while always welcome, are in the rear-view window as far as seasonal scenting goes. ‘Bamboo Harmony’ by Kilian is where we currently are, and with a few new bamboo plants on the horizon for our home, this looks to be the peaceful fragrance to see us into the spring and summer months. It also has a lovely memory associated with it, but I’ll save that for when and if I can actually try it on at home. (It’s available at Neiman Marcus here (and with their sale code ‘SELFCARE’ through tomorrow it’s actually cheaper than Amazon) but if you miss it here’s the link to the item on Amazon.)