Category Archives: Cologne

Summers in Boston can be brutal. Once that heat and humidity seeps into the ground, and the subway, it simply sits there, bothering and annoying even in the midnight hour, and stubbornly lingering until October at the earliest. When the days creep into the 90’s, and the sun is not abated by cloud or tree cover, it becomes difficult to cool down, and when you’re trapped among the city blocks of concrete and cobblestone, the only relief is found within the mind. 

Such were the warm circumstances in which Suzie and I found ourselves on a recent Saturday walking along Newbury Street. To alleviate the heat, we ducked into the Aesop shop, where the temperatures were cool and the lighting was dim and everything suddenly felt tranquil and calm. So much of being hot has to do with noise and bustle, and if you can master that mental game then the world instantly becomes more comfortable. In this case we also had a big sink with cool water in which to sample their body washes and products. A fan since I purchased their delicious ‘Tacit’ fragrance, they have a number of sweetly-scented items that neither overpower nor overwhelm, and we set about to giving them a try.

Both of us are fans of geranium, which seems to originate neither from the popular annual plant that bears its common name, or the true perennial variety that blooms in subtle shades of purple. It’s a very green scent, herbal and pungent, yet soft and delicate. Cool enough to withstand the summer heat, and bright enough to dispel winter’s darkness. And so it was that I found myself with a ridiculously-pricey pair of products, all worth it in the end when I realized I could pair them so perfectly with the ‘Geranium Pour Monsieur’ fragrance by Dominique Ripion (in Frederic Malle’s exquisite line) that I had in my cologne collection. This is an ideal fragrance to use for the summer months, as it dissipated rather quickly, doesn’t rest heavily on the skin, and is light and bright enough to cut through the humidity that characterizes the muggiest days.

“Whatever life you lead you must put your soul in it–to make any sort of success in it; and from the moment you do that it ceases to be romance, I assure you: it becomes grim reality! And you can’t always please yourself; you must sometimes please other people. That, I admit, you’re very ready to do; but there’s another thing that’s still more important–you must often displease others. You must always be ready for that–you must never shrink from it. That doesn’t suit you at all–you’re too fond of admiration, you like to be thought well of. You think we can escape disagreeable duties by taking romantic views–that’s your great illusion, my dear. But we can’t. You must be prepared on many occasions in life to please no one at all–not even yourself.” – Henry James, ‘The Portrait of a Lady’

This is merely a holding space for an evening memory sometime in the not-too-distant future, a memory not yet made but happily on the hopeful horizon. As such, it is difficult to tell you what ‘Portrait of a Lady’ means to me, because I don’t yet know. I’ve worn it at home to get a feel for it, and to indulge in its dark beauty, but I’ve been holding back on fully experiencing it by melding it to a particular experience. What I have now is a slightly ephemeral experience, an amalgamation of a couple of try-outs in Copley Place back when one could test colognes, before the world hid safely behind masks.

It actually took quite a while before I decided to try it on me. The name didn’t quite appeal to my preferences. I’m all for ladies with an attitude, and portraits of ladies for that matter, but Henry James? Not my favorite. Give me Edith Wharton over James any and every day. However, in researching some quotes from the book, I am finding a new appreciation for his words. The same thing happened the first time I tried ‘Portrait’ as a fragrance. It wasn’t quite my thing, not in those early days, and not in my earlier years.

“One can’t judge till one’s forty; before that we’re too eager, too hard, too cruel, and in addition much too ignorant.” – Henry James, ‘The Portrait of a Lady’

Returning to it on a trip to Boston about two years ago, I released my issues with the name, embracing ‘Portrait of a Lady’ and trying it on as I made my way home one night. As I lifted one sprayed wrist to my nose and walked through the Copley Place Mall, I felt its mysterious pull, the incense-like smoke that so beautifully curled around the central notes of rose. For Christmas and Valentine’s Day I hinted at my desire for it, but when other lovely gifts arrived in its stead, I took it upon myself to treat my own desires. Like the complicated people Henry James grappled with, I didn’t want to depend on others, and maybe I needed a reminder that I could depend on myself. Whichever it was or wasn’t, I procured my own bottle and in the darkness of this past winter I held onto it, wondering if there would ever be a time when I would wear it out in public.

“The years have touched her only to enrich her; the flower of her youth had not faded; it only hung more quietly on its stem.” – Henry James, ‘The Portrait of a Lady’

More time, stolen away. More lost visits with friends and family. More lost everything. At certain ages, you feel how quickly it all goes. You sense the fleeting nature of our quick lives. By the time I had that precious bottle of beautiful fragrance in my possession, we weren’t even allowed to travel to Boston without a 14-day quarantine, and we were being cautious by not going out in Albany. Then I realized something I’d forgotten in my desire to be out spreading my sillage: I didn’t wear a fragrance so that others would admire me – I wore a fragrance because I loved it – loved the way it scented my space, loved the beauty of how it lingered in the air, loved the minor memories as they were culled and created. And so, on a recent April evening, after the day had given us a bright blue sky and a warming sun, after I had just begun working on the garden, I took my evening shower and sprayed a bit of ‘Portrait of a Lady’ and read over these passages from the novel. There was hope in the air – Andy had mentioned opening the pool, and I’d stopped by to see my parents and prepare for a delayed Easter dinner – and if that was the memory this scent would evoke, it would be enough.

“When you have lived as long as I, you will see that every human being has his shell, and that you must take the shell into account. By the shell I mean the whole envelope of circumstances. There is no such thing as an isolated man or woman; we are each of us made up of a cluster of appurtenances. What do you call one’s self? Where does it begin? Where does it end? It overflows into everything that belongs to us – and then flows back again… One’s self – for other people – is one’s expression of one’s self; and one’s house, one’s clothes, the books one reads, the company one keeps – these things are all expressive.” – Henry James, ‘The Portrait of a Lady’

“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.