This is an illusion. You can’t really ever have perfume flowing along your veins but there is a quality certain perfumes share which makes them a great deal easier to adopt and to wear, and that is this phenomenon of “melting” into the skin.
So many perfumes have passed through my hands, and so few have stayed with me over time that I have developed a sense of those perfumes which might actually make a home with me based on a very simple criterion: surface or subcutaneous? If I don’t feel that I’ve absorbed a perfume and am now radiating it, then I seldom get to the point of finishing a bottle. Continue reading
Since there have been a dozen rose posts, this might a good time to take a breather, go back, and re-cap.
For all the complaining that perfume consumers do about the industry these days, one thing is inescapably true: there’s more variety. Once upon a distant time, Perfumer’s Workshop produced Tea Rose and Houbigant sold A Rose is a Rose.
That was about it in 1976. Now you have entire lines devoted to the flower in all its variations. Les Parfums de Rosine is one such house, and besides its twenty or so perfumes, there’s a slew of mainstream releases popular with the public such as Stella, or Valentino’s Rockin’ Rose.
Roses can be big drinkers. They certainly are in gardens, where you can easily go through gallons of water for thirsty roses on hot days, but perfumers have discovered the affinity that roses also have for alcohol. Perfume roses can belly up to a bar with the best of them. There are rose liquors out there, and I’m sure that somewhere some ambitious bartender has come up with a rosatini, but in the perfume world, the contenders for the booziest rose on the block are rather few.
Men once had buttonholes. Hard to believe, but they actually did, and what is more they really put things in these buttonholes – flowers for preference. Which flowers? Well, the gardenia was once called the “opera flower” because of being worn by gentlemen in their button holes to the opera. Other gentlemen chose other buttonholes: carnations, lily of the Valley, possibly a geranium (if they were Charles Dickens whose favorite flower it was) or a rose.