Ava Luxe Kama (EDP and Parfum Extrait)

I first tested Kama by Ava Luxe from a sample of the EDP and loved the naughty musk with its powdery heart and a hint of sweet darkness. It was sexy but never heavy or cheap and always wearable, despite an impressive sillage. When the sample was drained, I decided to upgrade and buy the extrait, hoping for more of the same, only deeper and darker.

The parfum extrait is a bit different, and I'm not sure I made the right decision. Don't get me wrong: I like it a lot and the drydown is delicious in a way reminiscent of other musky favorites such as Musc Ravageur. It's less powdery sweet and probably easier to wear for guys who shy away from vanilla. The labdanum is very prominent ( think of Le Labo Labdanum or a more masculine Barbara Bui). As expected, the extrait is closer to the skin than the EDP but surprisingly lacking in staying power. My other issue with it is the first 30 minutes that are a little to rough and jagged. It has quite a bit of unpolished resinous wood that makes the scent feel a bit unfinished. Not in a bad way, but something is missing.

It doesn't change the fact I just want to bathe in Kama and feel it all around me. The drydown is soft and satisfying in that comforting way I find in many musks, including the dirtiest. Kama is labeled as animalic, but I get no skank. Then again, I also wear MKK, so don't take my word for it.

Kama by Ava Luxe is available as EDP ($45) and extrait ($50) from the creator's web site, http://www.ava-luxe.com

Image: Brocata Ochre by Fabian Perez from Vinings Gallery

Ava Luxe Kama (EDP and Parfum Extrait)

I first tested Kama by Ava Luxe from a sample of the EDP and loved the naughty musk with its powdery heart and a hint of sweet darkness. It was sexy but never heavy or cheap and always wearable, despite an impressive sillage. When the sample was drained, I decided to upgrade and buy the extrait, hoping for more of the same, only deeper and darker.

The parfum extrait is a bit different, and I'm not sure I made the right decision. Don't get me wrong: I like it a lot and the drydown is delicious in a way reminiscent of other musky favorites such as Musc Ravageur. It's less powdery sweet and probably easier to wear for guys who shy away from vanilla. The labdanum is very prominent ( think of Le Labo Labdanum or a more masculine Barbara Bui). As expected, the extrait is closer to the skin than the EDP but surprisingly lacking in staying power. My other issue with it is the first 30 minutes that are a little to rough and jagged. It has quite a bit of unpolished resinous wood that makes the scent feel a bit unfinished. Not in a bad way, but something is missing.

It doesn't change the fact I just want to bathe in Kama and feel it all around me. The drydown is soft and satisfying in that comforting way I find in many musks, including the dirtiest. Kama is labeled as animalic, but I get no skank. Then again, I also wear MKK, so don't take my word for it.

Kama by Ava Luxe is available as EDP ($45) and extrait ($50) from the creator's web site, http://www.ava-luxe.com

Image: Brocata Ochre by Fabian Perez from Vinings Gallery

Ava Luxe Kama (EDP and Parfum Extrait)

I first tested Kama by Ava Luxe from a sample of the EDP and loved the naughty musk with its powdery heart and a hint of sweet darkness. It was sexy but never heavy or cheap and always wearable, despite an impressive sillage. When the sample was drained, I decided to upgrade and buy the extrait, hoping for more of the same, only deeper and darker.

The parfum extrait is a bit different, and I'm not sure I made the right decision. Don't get me wrong: I like it a lot and the drydown is delicious in a way reminiscent of other musky favorites such as Musc Ravageur. It's less powdery sweet and probably easier to wear for guys who shy away from vanilla. The labdanum is very prominent ( think of Le Labo Labdanum or a more masculine Barbara Bui). As expected, the extrait is closer to the skin than the EDP but surprisingly lacking in staying power. My other issue with it is the first 30 minutes that are a little to rough and jagged. It has quite a bit of unpolished resinous wood that makes the scent feel a bit unfinished. Not in a bad way, but something is missing.

It doesn't change the fact I just want to bathe in Kama and feel it all around me. The drydown is soft and satisfying in that comforting way I find in many musks, including the dirtiest. Kama is labeled as animalic, but I get no skank. Then again, I also wear MKK, so don't take my word for it.

Kama by Ava Luxe is available as EDP ($45) and extrait ($50) from the creator's web site, http://www.ava-luxe.com

Image: Brocata Ochre by Fabian Perez from Vinings Gallery

Dior Crayon Eyeliner In Elegant Taupe

From the jaw-dropping "statement compact" to true luxuries: A beautiful eye liner that creates an elegant look.

Dior made some serious improvements to the texture of their pencils. I had an older incarnation of the crayon in Precious Green and Precious Violet which I've put aside for lack of creaminess. This is why sometimes a reformulation can be a very good thing. I've since tested and liked the black and several lip liners, but it's the newest addition from the Parisian Nude collection, Elegant Taupe, that has won me over.

Elegant Taupe has a metallic finish that lifts and brightens the look instantly and is as spring-like as one can get without going pink. I wear it in a thick line with just a touch of black liquid liner at the base of the upper lashes, but someone with a fair skin should probably wear it alone.

Application is easy and doesn't require pulling or tugging. I use a primer and the line stays put and retains its color and sheen throughout the day with no smearing or bleeding. I tested it indoor and out and it also survived a short walk in the rain.

None of the online swatches does the pencil and the color any justice, and neither does my camera. You can see a semi decent photo on this French site that shows the color as a bit warmer than how it appears in mine, the truth is somewhere in the middle.

Dior Crayon Eyeliner ($26) is available from most department stores as well as from Sephora. Mine was a gift from a dear friend.

Dior Crayon Eyeliner In Elegant Taupe

From the jaw-dropping "statement compact" to true luxuries: A beautiful eye liner that creates an elegant look.

Dior made some serious improvements to the texture of their pencils. I had an older incarnation of the crayon in Precious Green and Precious Violet which I've put aside for lack of creaminess. This is why sometimes a reformulation can be a very good thing. I've since tested and liked the black and several lip liners, but it's the newest addition from the Parisian Nude collection, Elegant Taupe, that has won me over.

Elegant Taupe has a metallic finish that lifts and brightens the look instantly and is as spring-like as one can get without going pink. I wear it in a thick line with just a touch of black liquid liner at the base of the upper lashes, but someone with a fair skin should probably wear it alone.

Application is easy and doesn't require pulling or tugging. I use a primer and the line stays put and retains its color and sheen throughout the day with no smearing or bleeding. I tested it indoor and out and it also survived a short walk in the rain.

None of the online swatches does the pencil and the color any justice, and neither does my camera. You can see a semi decent photo on this French site that shows the color as a bit warmer than how it appears in mine, the truth is somewhere in the middle.

Dior Crayon Eyeliner ($26) is available from most department stores as well as from Sephora. Mine was a gift from a dear friend.

Dior Crayon Eyeliner In Elegant Taupe

From the jaw-dropping "statement compact" to true luxuries: A beautiful eye liner that creates an elegant look.

Dior made some serious improvements to the texture of their pencils. I had an older incarnation of the crayon in Precious Green and Precious Violet which I've put aside for lack of creaminess. This is why sometimes a reformulation can be a very good thing. I've since tested and liked the black and several lip liners, but it's the newest addition from the Parisian Nude collection, Elegant Taupe, that has won me over.

Elegant Taupe has a metallic finish that lifts and brightens the look instantly and is as spring-like as one can get without going pink. I wear it in a thick line with just a touch of black liquid liner at the base of the upper lashes, but someone with a fair skin should probably wear it alone.

Application is easy and doesn't require pulling or tugging. I use a primer and the line stays put and retains its color and sheen throughout the day with no smearing or bleeding. I tested it indoor and out and it also survived a short walk in the rain.

None of the online swatches does the pencil and the color any justice, and neither does my camera. You can see a semi decent photo on this French site that shows the color as a bit warmer than how it appears in mine, the truth is somewhere in the middle.

Dior Crayon Eyeliner ($26) is available from most department stores as well as from Sephora. Mine was a gift from a dear friend.

Chantecaille Limited Edition La Baleine Eyes And Face

I'm utterly fascinated by the new compacts (one for eyes, one for face) from Chantecaille. The limited edition La Baleine Bleue Eyes and Blanche Face are breathtakingly beautiful. Too pretty, actually. They look more like a collector's item than something I'd use, which as far as I'm concerned, defeats the purpose.

The price tag ($98 each) puts them at a fashion statement level, much like investment shoes, only hidden in one's makeup bag.

Chantecaille Limited Edition La Baleine Eyes And Face

I'm utterly fascinated by the new compacts (one for eyes, one for face) from Chantecaille. The limited edition La Baleine Bleue Eyes and Blanche Face are breathtakingly beautiful. Too pretty, actually. They look more like a collector's item than something I'd use, which as far as I'm concerned, defeats the purpose.

The price tag ($98 each) puts them at a fashion statement level, much like investment shoes, only hidden in one's makeup bag.

Chantecaille Limited Edition La Baleine Eyes And Face

I'm utterly fascinated by the new compacts (one for eyes, one for face) from Chantecaille. The limited edition La Baleine Bleue Eyes and Blanche Face are breathtakingly beautiful. Too pretty, actually. They look more like a collector's item than something I'd use, which as far as I'm concerned, defeats the purpose.

The price tag ($98 each) puts them at a fashion statement level, much like investment shoes, only hidden in one's makeup bag.

Cameron Diaz Making A Bad Wardrobe Choice

A sad clown from the 80s? A What Not To Wear candidate?
Cameron Diaz on the red carpet for Nickelodeon’s 2009 Kids’ Choice Awards. Don't the kids deserve better?

Cameron Diaz Making A Bad Wardrobe Choice

A sad clown from the 80s? A What Not To Wear candidate?
Cameron Diaz on the red carpet for Nickelodeon’s 2009 Kids’ Choice Awards. Don't the kids deserve better?

Cameron Diaz Making A Bad Wardrobe Choice

A sad clown from the 80s? A What Not To Wear candidate?
Cameron Diaz on the red carpet for Nickelodeon’s 2009 Kids’ Choice Awards. Don't the kids deserve better?

Reflection and Self-Reinvention Part 4: In which I take a perfume class

My secondary education years were long and twisted. I started out as a fresh faced English major and ended up in business school, where my final project/thesis was something about an information system for dairy farms. A couple of years in the real world have sent me back to school, this time for math education (I couldn't let all those years of advanced calculus go to waste). The point is that in my world, taking a class had a lot more to do with econometrics than with having fun.

I got a chance to participate in a two day introduction to perfumery techniques class and the experience was one of the most joyous I can recall. Imagine: learning and immersing yourself in one of your greatest passions while surrounded with people who feel exactly the same way. I felt like the luckiest person in the world.

Cinquième Sens, the French perfumery school has opened a branch in New York City and offering a growing variety of classes and programs for those of us who want to know more about the perfume industry, understand the market, the products and more than anything else: what it's all about. Last summer I visited the Paris school and spoke to one of the teachers (you can read about it here). Cinquième Sens takes a practical approach to fragrance. They focus on translating the art of perfumery into consumer products and they teach you about what's in your bottle. It's a fascinating journey.

The teachers were Jillian Friedman, a fragrance industry professional, who's been a consultant for several major brands, and Aurélie Dematons from the Paris school. Both of them offered knowledge and enthusiasm and patiently answered every question.

My absolutely favorite part was sniffing the raw materials, both natural and synthetic. Most of us have come across an essential oil or two before, but have you ever smelled raw tonka beans or ylang-ylang (my notes on the latter say: weird, oily, aggressive)? I wanted to plant my nose in the oakmoss jar and never let go. But the most amazing ones were the forbidden animalics- the ones that are no longer permitted for use. My vegetarian sensibilities are happy it's now illegal to use real musk, castoreum and civet. But I'm also glad I had a chance to smell them once. And my notes about ambregris, the whale equivalent of hairballs, say simply: "no words".

It was also eye opening to get acquainted with some of the more popular synthetics. It helped me understand my fragrance taste a bit better. When it comes to many (most?) of the new bestselling perfumes, the ones lauded for being light, fresh, young (insert your favorite adjective), I sniff them, sometimes spray on my skin, shrug and move on. I tend to forget them by the time I approach the next counter, unless they turn into a cataclysmic scrubber. Apparently, I'm anosmic to several of these happy new molecules. Sometimes I can't smell them at all, others I can tell there's a scent, but it barely registers.

It was especially fun to smell a raw material and then treasure-hunt it in real perfumes. For the first time I could make the separate notes in Chanel no. 5, especially the orange blossom. You gain appreciation for the art of fragrance construction and seamless blending.

Sitting in a classroom for two days, sniffing blotters with a group of people who are just as passionate about perfume is such a different experience than what most of us are used to. There was a great energy around the table as we passed the scent strips around and commented about them. We were all bubbly with excitement over the chance to spend two days talking about perfume. And who wouldn't be?

I attended the class a guest, thanks to Isabelle Ferrand, the head of the Paris school and Laëtitia Longuefosse, the NY director. For details about the offered programs and schedule for the upcoming months, contact Laëtitia at 212 686 4123 or laetitia@cinquiemesens.com .

Reflection and Self-Reinvention Part 4: In which I take a perfume class

My secondary education years were long and twisted. I started out as a fresh faced English major and ended up in business school, where my final project/thesis was something about an information system for dairy farms. A couple of years in the real world have sent me back to school, this time for math education (I couldn't let all those years of advanced calculus go to waste). The point is that in my world, taking a class had a lot more to do with econometrics than with having fun.

I got a chance to participate in a two day introduction to perfumery techniques class and the experience was one of the most joyous I can recall. Imagine: learning and immersing yourself in one of your greatest passions while surrounded with people who feel exactly the same way. I felt like the luckiest person in the world.

Cinquième Sens, the French perfumery school has opened a branch in New York City and offering a growing variety of classes and programs for those of us who want to know more about the perfume industry, understand the market, the products and more than anything else: what it's all about. Last summer I visited the Paris school and spoke to one of the teachers (you can read about it here). Cinquième Sens takes a practical approach to fragrance. They focus on translating the art of perfumery into consumer products and they teach you about what's in your bottle. It's a fascinating journey.

The teachers were Jillian Friedman, a fragrance industry professional, who's been a consultant for several major brands, and Aurélie Dematons from the Paris school. Both of them offered knowledge and enthusiasm and patiently answered every question.

My absolutely favorite part was sniffing the raw materials, both natural and synthetic. Most of us have come across an essential oil or two before, but have you ever smelled raw tonka beans or ylang-ylang (my notes on the latter say: weird, oily, aggressive)? I wanted to plant my nose in the oakmoss jar and never let go. But the most amazing ones were the forbidden animalics- the ones that are no longer permitted for use. My vegetarian sensibilities are happy it's now illegal to use real musk, castoreum and civet. But I'm also glad I had a chance to smell them once. And my notes about ambregris, the whale equivalent of hairballs, say simply: "no words".

It was also eye opening to get acquainted with some of the more popular synthetics. It helped me understand my fragrance taste a bit better. When it comes to many (most?) of the new bestselling perfumes, the ones lauded for being light, fresh, young (insert your favorite adjective), I sniff them, sometimes spray on my skin, shrug and move on. I tend to forget them by the time I approach the next counter, unless they turn into a cataclysmic scrubber. Apparently, I'm anosmic to several of these happy new molecules. Sometimes I can't smell them at all, others I can tell there's a scent, but it barely registers.

It was especially fun to smell a raw material and then treasure-hunt it in real perfumes. For the first time I could make the separate notes in Chanel no. 5, especially the orange blossom. You gain appreciation for the art of fragrance construction and seamless blending.

Sitting in a classroom for two days, sniffing blotters with a group of people who are just as passionate about perfume is such a different experience than what most of us are used to. There was a great energy around the table as we passed the scent strips around and commented about them. We were all bubbly with excitement over the chance to spend two days talking about perfume. And who wouldn't be?

I attended the class a guest, thanks to Isabelle Ferrand, the head of the Paris school and Laëtitia Longuefosse, the NY director. For details about the offered programs and schedule for the upcoming months, contact Laëtitia at 212 686 4123 or laetitia@cinquiemesens.com .

Reflection and Self-Reinvention Part 4: In which I take a perfume class

My secondary education years were long and twisted. I started out as a fresh faced English major and ended up in business school, where my final project/thesis was something about an information system for dairy farms. A couple of years in the real world have sent me back to school, this time for math education (I couldn't let all those years of advanced calculus go to waste). The point is that in my world, taking a class had a lot more to do with econometrics than with having fun.

I got a chance to participate in a two day introduction to perfumery techniques class and the experience was one of the most joyous I can recall. Imagine: learning and immersing yourself in one of your greatest passions while surrounded with people who feel exactly the same way. I felt like the luckiest person in the world.

Cinquième Sens, the French perfumery school has opened a branch in New York City and offering a growing variety of classes and programs for those of us who want to know more about the perfume industry, understand the market, the products and more than anything else: what it's all about. Last summer I visited the Paris school and spoke to one of the teachers (you can read about it here). Cinquième Sens takes a practical approach to fragrance. They focus on translating the art of perfumery into consumer products and they teach you about what's in your bottle. It's a fascinating journey.

The teachers were Jillian Friedman, a fragrance industry professional, who's been a consultant for several major brands, and Aurélie Dematons from the Paris school. Both of them offered knowledge and enthusiasm and patiently answered every question.

My absolutely favorite part was sniffing the raw materials, both natural and synthetic. Most of us have come across an essential oil or two before, but have you ever smelled raw tonka beans or ylang-ylang (my notes on the latter say: weird, oily, aggressive)? I wanted to plant my nose in the oakmoss jar and never let go. But the most amazing ones were the forbidden animalics- the ones that are no longer permitted for use. My vegetarian sensibilities are happy it's now illegal to use real musk, castoreum and civet. But I'm also glad I had a chance to smell them once. And my notes about ambregris, the whale equivalent of hairballs, say simply: "no words".

It was also eye opening to get acquainted with some of the more popular synthetics. It helped me understand my fragrance taste a bit better. When it comes to many (most?) of the new bestselling perfumes, the ones lauded for being light, fresh, young (insert your favorite adjective), I sniff them, sometimes spray on my skin, shrug and move on. I tend to forget them by the time I approach the next counter, unless they turn into a cataclysmic scrubber. Apparently, I'm anosmic to several of these happy new molecules. Sometimes I can't smell them at all, others I can tell there's a scent, but it barely registers.

It was especially fun to smell a raw material and then treasure-hunt it in real perfumes. For the first time I could make the separate notes in Chanel no. 5, especially the orange blossom. You gain appreciation for the art of fragrance construction and seamless blending.

Sitting in a classroom for two days, sniffing blotters with a group of people who are just as passionate about perfume is such a different experience than what most of us are used to. There was a great energy around the table as we passed the scent strips around and commented about them. We were all bubbly with excitement over the chance to spend two days talking about perfume. And who wouldn't be?

I attended the class a guest, thanks to Isabelle Ferrand, the head of the Paris school and Laëtitia Longuefosse, the NY director. For details about the offered programs and schedule for the upcoming months, contact Laëtitia at 212 686 4123 or laetitia@cinquiemesens.com .

Beauty.com - Truth In Advertising

Or: how to really annoy your customers

The other day I had to replenish some of the usual suspects in my beauty arsenal and was also in the mood for something new (anyone wonders how I became a beauty blogger?). It wasn't a case requiring instant gratification, so no need to deal with the sale assistants at Bloomie's or the mallishness of my local Sephora.

Beauty.com is one of my regular online shopping destinations and has been so for many years now. A click on my bookmarks list brought me to the front page, which told me about a great promotional: spend a certain amount and receive a bag with an impressive amount of samples, minis and full size products, many of them were already on my ever-growing list of "must try soon". I'm usually not a big fan of beauty bag events and have skipped all the recent ones from the serious department stores, as they offered ridiculously sub par crap. My policy is to buy what I need when I need it, and never because someone is offering a frosted aqua eye shadow when you spend enough to feed a small village. But I already planned to spend just over the required sum, so it wasn't an issue. And the GWP was really the best I've seen in ages.

Five minutes and a few clicks later and I was ready for checkout. My shopping cart has informed me that the GWP would be sent separately within another week with no added cost. No problem on my part. A couple of more clicks, the order was confirmed and sent. I was satisfied and free to go read some celeb gossip sites.

Today I got an automated email informing me that the second part of my order, the one with the GWP, was cancelled.

It doesn't matter much and I would have made the exact same order regardless. I don't feel entitled to a GWP and it's obvious that Beauty.com cannot be expected to send something they no longer have in stock. But this was not a case of an email promotional that I clicked too late, after it expired. The beauty bag was advertised right there on the front page of the site at the time I placed my order. This warrants at least a decent apology, and is a good lesson of why you should not make a purchase just for a GWP you may or may not receive.

Beauty.com - Truth In Advertising

Or: how to really annoy your customers

The other day I had to replenish some of the usual suspects in my beauty arsenal and was also in the mood for something new (anyone wonders how I became a beauty blogger?). It wasn't a case requiring instant gratification, so no need to deal with the sale assistants at Bloomie's or the mallishness of my local Sephora.

Beauty.com is one of my regular online shopping destinations and has been so for many years now. A click on my bookmarks list brought me to the front page, which told me about a great promotional: spend a certain amount and receive a bag with an impressive amount of samples, minis and full size products, many of them were already on my ever-growing list of "must try soon". I'm usually not a big fan of beauty bag events and have skipped all the recent ones from the serious department stores, as they offered ridiculously sub par crap. My policy is to buy what I need when I need it, and never because someone is offering a frosted aqua eye shadow when you spend enough to feed a small village. But I already planned to spend just over the required sum, so it wasn't an issue. And the GWP was really the best I've seen in ages.

Five minutes and a few clicks later and I was ready for checkout. My shopping cart has informed me that the GWP would be sent separately within another week with no added cost. No problem on my part. A couple of more clicks, the order was confirmed and sent. I was satisfied and free to go read some celeb gossip sites.

Today I got an automated email informing me that the second part of my order, the one with the GWP, was cancelled.

It doesn't matter much and I would have made the exact same order regardless. I don't feel entitled to a GWP and it's obvious that Beauty.com cannot be expected to send something they no longer have in stock. But this was not a case of an email promotional that I clicked too late, after it expired. The beauty bag was advertised right there on the front page of the site at the time I placed my order. This warrants at least a decent apology, and is a good lesson of why you should not make a purchase just for a GWP you may or may not receive.

Beauty.com - Truth In Advertising

Or: how to really annoy your customers

The other day I had to replenish some of the usual suspects in my beauty arsenal and was also in the mood for something new (anyone wonders how I became a beauty blogger?). It wasn't a case requiring instant gratification, so no need to deal with the sale assistants at Bloomie's or the mallishness of my local Sephora.

Beauty.com is one of my regular online shopping destinations and has been so for many years now. A click on my bookmarks list brought me to the front page, which told me about a great promotional: spend a certain amount and receive a bag with an impressive amount of samples, minis and full size products, many of them were already on my ever-growing list of "must try soon". I'm usually not a big fan of beauty bag events and have skipped all the recent ones from the serious department stores, as they offered ridiculously sub par crap. My policy is to buy what I need when I need it, and never because someone is offering a frosted aqua eye shadow when you spend enough to feed a small village. But I already planned to spend just over the required sum, so it wasn't an issue. And the GWP was really the best I've seen in ages.

Five minutes and a few clicks later and I was ready for checkout. My shopping cart has informed me that the GWP would be sent separately within another week with no added cost. No problem on my part. A couple of more clicks, the order was confirmed and sent. I was satisfied and free to go read some celeb gossip sites.

Today I got an automated email informing me that the second part of my order, the one with the GWP, was cancelled.

It doesn't matter much and I would have made the exact same order regardless. I don't feel entitled to a GWP and it's obvious that Beauty.com cannot be expected to send something they no longer have in stock. But this was not a case of an email promotional that I clicked too late, after it expired. The beauty bag was advertised right there on the front page of the site at the time I placed my order. This warrants at least a decent apology, and is a good lesson of why you should not make a purchase just for a GWP you may or may not receive.

Guerlain Meteorites Powder

Let's face it (no pun intended, I swear): face powder is not the sexiest makeup item in our arsenal. It suffers from a grandmotherly image that isn't doing any justice to the product or to its user, who simply knows better than to let a good makeup application disintegrate without the appropriate finishing product. Still, buying or applying it is much less fun than choosing a new red lipstick.

The people of Guerlain are doing their best to bring back some glamor to this elementary item, even if they claim the creation of Meteorites and the packaging was inspired by Marie Antoinette. Personally, the tragic queen makes me think about the guillotine and Kirsten Dunst, two decidedly unglamorous objects, but maybe that's just me. In any case, the colorful cardboard box (better than plastic, for sure) that holds the little pearls of powder is very cute.

Meteorites is closer to loose powder than to a pressed compact. The pearls are moving freely in their box and creating a bit too much violet-scented dust when applied, no matter if you use the accompanying puffy sponge (don't. It goes on uneven and tends to cake) or a powder brush (the recommend Guerlain's own Meteorites brush, the one with the disturbingly pink head, but you probably already own a suitable brush or two, so don't hesitate to use them). You'll want to protect your black cashmere sweater while putting it on, and probably also keep the cats away, though the scent is nice on them.

I chose Meteroites in Beige Chic (03), which is just right- not too pink and not too white. It doesn't add color, just melds nicely with what I've already put on. A few of the pearls have a little shimmer, but it doesn't transfer to the face. The final result is luminous, not pearly and it gives that flawless finish that is the whole point.

In term of staying power and keeping blush and foundation in place, Meteorites is certainly above average. Performance of face products is often contingent upon skin's level of moisture/oiliness, the weather and any other product you've layered underneath. On my personal scale, Meteroites rates better than Lancome pressed powder but not as good a couple of Laura Geller products I have in my regular rotation.

The greatest disadvantage of this product is for travel. The pearls are too fragile and the box too big to carry in most makeup bags. But it looks nice on the dresser, as long as the cats don't get to it first (mine are more interested in brushes).

Guerlain Meteorites Powder ($53) is available from most department stores and from Sephora, which is where I bought mine.

Guerlain Meteorites Powder

Let's face it (no pun intended, I swear): face powder is not the sexiest makeup item in our arsenal. It suffers from a grandmotherly image that isn't doing any justice to the product or to its user, who simply knows better than to let a good makeup application disintegrate without the appropriate finishing product. Still, buying or applying it is much less fun than choosing a new red lipstick.

The people of Guerlain are doing their best to bring back some glamor to this elementary item, even if they claim the creation of Meteorites and the packaging was inspired by Marie Antoinette. Personally, the tragic queen makes me think about the guillotine and Kirsten Dunst, two decidedly unglamorous objects, but maybe that's just me. In any case, the colorful cardboard box (better than plastic, for sure) that holds the little pearls of powder is very cute.

Meteorites is closer to loose powder than to a pressed compact. The pearls are moving freely in their box and creating a bit too much violet-scented dust when applied, no matter if you use the accompanying puffy sponge (don't. It goes on uneven and tends to cake) or a powder brush (the recommend Guerlain's own Meteorites brush, the one with the disturbingly pink head, but you probably already own a suitable brush or two, so don't hesitate to use them). You'll want to protect your black cashmere sweater while putting it on, and probably also keep the cats away, though the scent is nice on them.

I chose Meteroites in Beige Chic (03), which is just right- not too pink and not too white. It doesn't add color, just melds nicely with what I've already put on. A few of the pearls have a little shimmer, but it doesn't transfer to the face. The final result is luminous, not pearly and it gives that flawless finish that is the whole point.

In term of staying power and keeping blush and foundation in place, Meteorites is certainly above average. Performance of face products is often contingent upon skin's level of moisture/oiliness, the weather and any other product you've layered underneath. On my personal scale, Meteroites rates better than Lancome pressed powder but not as good a couple of Laura Geller products I have in my regular rotation.

The greatest disadvantage of this product is for travel. The pearls are too fragile and the box too big to carry in most makeup bags. But it looks nice on the dresser, as long as the cats don't get to it first (mine are more interested in brushes).

Guerlain Meteorites Powder ($53) is available from most department stores and from Sephora, which is where I bought mine.

Guerlain Meteorites Powder

Let's face it (no pun intended, I swear): face powder is not the sexiest makeup item in our arsenal. It suffers from a grandmotherly image that isn't doing any justice to the product or to its user, who simply knows better than to let a good makeup application disintegrate without the appropriate finishing product. Still, buying or applying it is much less fun than choosing a new red lipstick.

The people of Guerlain are doing their best to bring back some glamor to this elementary item, even if they claim the creation of Meteorites and the packaging was inspired by Marie Antoinette. Personally, the tragic queen makes me think about the guillotine and Kirsten Dunst, two decidedly unglamorous objects, but maybe that's just me. In any case, the colorful cardboard box (better than plastic, for sure) that holds the little pearls of powder is very cute.

Meteorites is closer to loose powder than to a pressed compact. The pearls are moving freely in their box and creating a bit too much violet-scented dust when applied, no matter if you use the accompanying puffy sponge (don't. It goes on uneven and tends to cake) or a powder brush (the recommend Guerlain's own Meteorites brush, the one with the disturbingly pink head, but you probably already own a suitable brush or two, so don't hesitate to use them). You'll want to protect your black cashmere sweater while putting it on, and probably also keep the cats away, though the scent is nice on them.

I chose Meteroites in Beige Chic (03), which is just right- not too pink and not too white. It doesn't add color, just melds nicely with what I've already put on. A few of the pearls have a little shimmer, but it doesn't transfer to the face. The final result is luminous, not pearly and it gives that flawless finish that is the whole point.

In term of staying power and keeping blush and foundation in place, Meteorites is certainly above average. Performance of face products is often contingent upon skin's level of moisture/oiliness, the weather and any other product you've layered underneath. On my personal scale, Meteroites rates better than Lancome pressed powder but not as good a couple of Laura Geller products I have in my regular rotation.

The greatest disadvantage of this product is for travel. The pearls are too fragile and the box too big to carry in most makeup bags. But it looks nice on the dresser, as long as the cats don't get to it first (mine are more interested in brushes).

Guerlain Meteorites Powder ($53) is available from most department stores and from Sephora, which is where I bought mine.

Book Review: Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher

Carrie Fisher is what we call nowadays a celebuspawn (think Rumer Willis and Peaches Geldof). Except that being born in the 1950s meant she got to become Elizabeth Taylor's stepdaughter and spent quality time with Cary Grant. Even the Jolie-Pitts would never be able to top that. These stories alone made her memoir, Wishful Drinking, a book I really wanted to read.

The problem with Wishful Drinking is that it's mostly the material from Carrie Fisher's one-woman show by the same name, and not really an in-depth, tell-all autobiography. It's a lot shorter and breezier you would expect from a book that covers not only an unusual Hollywood childhood and coming of age but also two marriages (to Paul Simon and to a gay man), the Star Wars trilogy and Fisher's years of struggling with addiction and mental illness.

I can't help it: My favorite part was family saga and stories about Carrie Fisher's parents, Eddie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds and long parade of step-parents. Ancient Hollywood gossip is infinitely better than TMZ and Perez Hilton, especially when told by a very witty and often hilarious insider. The Star Wars part felt a bit rushed and too obligatory: What did she wear under the white dress? (gaffer's tape), how did she feel about the iconic hairstyle? (it made her look fat). And then there are the heartbreaks, Paul Simon and the illness, taking up about a third of the book and in some places a bit glossed over.

I can't help feeling that Carrie Fisher and her story deserve better than a quick read in one sitting, which is all the book provides. Her first novel, the fictionalized autobiography Postcards From The Edge was much more satisfying.

Book Review: Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher

Carrie Fisher is what we call nowadays a celebuspawn (think Rumer Willis and Peaches Geldof). Except that being born in the 1950s meant she got to become Elizabeth Taylor's stepdaughter and spent quality time with Cary Grant. Even the Jolie-Pitts would never be able to top that. These stories alone made her memoir, Wishful Drinking, a book I really wanted to read.

The problem with Wishful Drinking is that it's mostly the material from Carrie Fisher's one-woman show by the same name, and not really an in-depth, tell-all autobiography. It's a lot shorter and breezier you would expect from a book that covers not only an unusual Hollywood childhood and coming of age but also two marriages (to Paul Simon and to a gay man), the Star Wars trilogy and Fisher's years of struggling with addiction and mental illness.

I can't help it: My favorite part was family saga and stories about Carrie Fisher's parents, Eddie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds and long parade of step-parents. Ancient Hollywood gossip is infinitely better than TMZ and Perez Hilton, especially when told by a very witty and often hilarious insider. The Star Wars part felt a bit rushed and too obligatory: What did she wear under the white dress? (gaffer's tape), how did she feel about the iconic hairstyle? (it made her look fat). And then there are the heartbreaks, Paul Simon and the illness, taking up about a third of the book and in some places a bit glossed over.

I can't help feeling that Carrie Fisher and her story deserve better than a quick read in one sitting, which is all the book provides. Her first novel, the fictionalized autobiography Postcards From The Edge was much more satisfying.

Book Review: Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher

Carrie Fisher is what we call nowadays a celebuspawn (think Rumer Willis and Peaches Geldof). Except that being born in the 1950s meant she got to become Elizabeth Taylor's stepdaughter and spent quality time with Cary Grant. Even the Jolie-Pitts would never be able to top that. These stories alone made her memoir, Wishful Drinking, a book I really wanted to read.

The problem with Wishful Drinking is that it's mostly the material from Carrie Fisher's one-woman show by the same name, and not really an in-depth, tell-all autobiography. It's a lot shorter and breezier you would expect from a book that covers not only an unusual Hollywood childhood and coming of age but also two marriages (to Paul Simon and to a gay man), the Star Wars trilogy and Fisher's years of struggling with addiction and mental illness.

I can't help it: My favorite part was family saga and stories about Carrie Fisher's parents, Eddie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds and long parade of step-parents. Ancient Hollywood gossip is infinitely better than TMZ and Perez Hilton, especially when told by a very witty and often hilarious insider. The Star Wars part felt a bit rushed and too obligatory: What did she wear under the white dress? (gaffer's tape), how did she feel about the iconic hairstyle? (it made her look fat). And then there are the heartbreaks, Paul Simon and the illness, taking up about a third of the book and in some places a bit glossed over.

I can't help feeling that Carrie Fisher and her story deserve better than a quick read in one sitting, which is all the book provides. Her first novel, the fictionalized autobiography Postcards From The Edge was much more satisfying.

The Lost Perfume Series: L'Occitane Neroli (original)

The original Neroli EDP by L'Occitane is among the handful of scents that ever got me compliments from complete strangers. The others are Musc Ravageur, L'Air du Desert Marocain, Shalimar Light and Panthere de Cartier (Strangely enough, no one has ever stopped me on the street demanding to know where and how they can get a bottle of Miel de Bois). Interestingly, Neroli is the biggest traffic stopper of this group, despite its humble pedigree.

Neroli (the raw material) is an essential oil distilled from orange flowers (not to be confused with the orange blossom absolute, which is extracted through the use of a solvent). This might lead one to expect a light, ethereal and feminine scent, which couldn't be further from the truth. L'Occitane Neroli in it's original 2003 version is strong and quite aggressive. It opens up like most straight forward neroli oils you'd find at your local Whole Foods market or other places that sell essential oils. It's uplifting and full of sunshine, and I used to spray it into the air and walk into this. Not so much to lighten it up as because I wanted to coat myself and absorb as much of the perfume as humanly possible.

(I was so infatuated that for about six months this was my most worn scent and I went through several bottles before going back to my perfume promiscuous ways)

But after the conventional part of the scent, things get hot, heavy and somewhat animalic. I could not find an official list of notes, but to my nose there's quite a bit of ceder in the heart-to-drydown phase, and it's a dry and dirty cedar with the infamous hamster cage effect. I love it, but anyone looking for a demure and clean orange scent in the normal L'Occitane way would have been horrified, which I suspect was exactly the cause of the perfume's untimely demise.

Eventually the hamster is gone and what's left is a slightly sweet, ambery neroli with more than a hint of musk and lots of sex appeal. While the sillage mostly disappears after the first 30 minutes or so, what's left on the skin is quite tenacious.

As far as I remember, Neroli was marketed as a feminine and was presented as part of the (original) L'Oranger product line- there was a weird body wash with little brown moisture beads that made a mess in the bath, and a too thin body milk. But trying to objectively assess the scent I'm pretty sure that was a mistake. Neroli feels quite unisex and many men would have found it appealing. Think of Tom Ford's Neroli Portofino, which is quite masculine, and I have to say I find L'Occitane Neroli to be rounder and better.

Sadly, the original Neroli was discontinued some time between 2006 and 2007 only to be replaced with a weak and wimpy scent under the same name. The new juice is considerably lighter in color (the original started orange but ages into an almost red liquid, which leads me to believe that there was a considerable amount of natural ingredients in it, even though they also added colors to the formula, as indicated on the box). The new version is inoffensive but boring and feels like a washed out relative of the beautiful Neroli.

I was hoarding what I had left in my last bottle until last summer. Occasionally I would see an eBay auction of a bottle, but the prices always were way too much than anything I'd be willing to pay. Fortunately, last year when shopping in Paris I spotted the familiar boxes at Printemps. They had a clearance sale of what looked like old L'Occitane stock. Let's just say I now have a lifetime supply.

Photos of the bottle and box by me with the help of Kosh and Giselle.

The Lost Perfume Series: L'Occitane Neroli (original)

The original Neroli EDP by L'Occitane is among the handful of scents that ever got me compliments from complete strangers. The others are Musc Ravageur, L'Air du Desert Marocain, Shalimar Light and Panthere de Cartier (Strangely enough, no one has ever stopped me on the street demanding to know where and how they can get a bottle of Miel de Bois). Interestingly, Neroli is the biggest traffic stopper of this group, despite its humble pedigree.

Neroli (the raw material) is an essential oil distilled from orange flowers (not to be confused with the orange blossom absolute, which is extracted through the use of a solvent). This might lead one to expect a light, ethereal and feminine scent, which couldn't be further from the truth. L'Occitane Neroli in it's original 2003 version is strong and quite aggressive. It opens up like most straight forward neroli oils you'd find at your local Whole Foods market or other places that sell essential oils. It's uplifting and full of sunshine, and I used to spray it into the air and walk into this. Not so much to lighten it up as because I wanted to coat myself and absorb as much of the perfume as humanly possible.

(I was so infatuated that for about six months this was my most worn scent and I went through several bottles before going back to my perfume promiscuous ways)

But after the conventional part of the scent, things get hot, heavy and somewhat animalic. I could not find an official list of notes, but to my nose there's quite a bit of ceder in the heart-to-drydown phase, and it's a dry and dirty cedar with the infamous hamster cage effect. I love it, but anyone looking for a demure and clean orange scent in the normal L'Occitane way would have been horrified, which I suspect was exactly the cause of the perfume's untimely demise.

Eventually the hamster is gone and what's left is a slightly sweet, ambery neroli with more than a hint of musk and lots of sex appeal. While the sillage mostly disappears after the first 30 minutes or so, what's left on the skin is quite tenacious.

As far as I remember, Neroli was marketed as a feminine and was presented as part of the (original) L'Oranger product line- there was a weird body wash with little brown moisture beads that made a mess in the bath, and a too thin body milk. But trying to objectively assess the scent I'm pretty sure that was a mistake. Neroli feels quite unisex and many men would have found it appealing. Think of Tom Ford's Neroli Portofino, which is quite masculine, and I have to say I find L'Occitane Neroli to be rounder and better.

Sadly, the original Neroli was discontinued some time between 2006 and 2007 only to be replaced with a weak and wimpy scent under the same name. The new juice is considerably lighter in color (the original started orange but ages into an almost red liquid, which leads me to believe that there was a considerable amount of natural ingredients in it, even though they also added colors to the formula, as indicated on the box). The new version is inoffensive but boring and feels like a washed out relative of the beautiful Neroli.

I was hoarding what I had left in my last bottle until last summer. Occasionally I would see an eBay auction of a bottle, but the prices always were way too much than anything I'd be willing to pay. Fortunately, last year when shopping in Paris I spotted the familiar boxes at Printemps. They had a clearance sale of what looked like old L'Occitane stock. Let's just say I now have a lifetime supply.

Photos of the bottle and box by me with the help of Kosh and Giselle.

The Lost Perfume Series: L'Occitane Neroli (original)

The original Neroli EDP by L'Occitane is among the handful of scents that ever got me compliments from complete strangers. The others are Musc Ravageur, L'Air du Desert Marocain, Shalimar Light and Panthere de Cartier (Strangely enough, no one has ever stopped me on the street demanding to know where and how they can get a bottle of Miel de Bois). Interestingly, Neroli is the biggest traffic stopper of this group, despite its humble pedigree.

Neroli (the raw material) is an essential oil distilled from orange flowers (not to be confused with the orange blossom absolute, which is extracted through the use of a solvent). This might lead one to expect a light, ethereal and feminine scent, which couldn't be further from the truth. L'Occitane Neroli in it's original 2003 version is strong and quite aggressive. It opens up like most straight forward neroli oils you'd find at your local Whole Foods market or other places that sell essential oils. It's uplifting and full of sunshine, and I used to spray it into the air and walk into this. Not so much to lighten it up as because I wanted to coat myself and absorb as much of the perfume as humanly possible.

(I was so infatuated that for about six months this was my most worn scent and I went through several bottles before going back to my perfume promiscuous ways)

But after the conventional part of the scent, things get hot, heavy and somewhat animalic. I could not find an official list of notes, but to my nose there's quite a bit of ceder in the heart-to-drydown phase, and it's a dry and dirty cedar with the infamous hamster cage effect. I love it, but anyone looking for a demure and clean orange scent in the normal L'Occitane way would have been horrified, which I suspect was exactly the cause of the perfume's untimely demise.

Eventually the hamster is gone and what's left is a slightly sweet, ambery neroli with more than a hint of musk and lots of sex appeal. While the sillage mostly disappears after the first 30 minutes or so, what's left on the skin is quite tenacious.

As far as I remember, Neroli was marketed as a feminine and was presented as part of the (original) L'Oranger product line- there was a weird body wash with little brown moisture beads that made a mess in the bath, and a too thin body milk. But trying to objectively assess the scent I'm pretty sure that was a mistake. Neroli feels quite unisex and many men would have found it appealing. Think of Tom Ford's Neroli Portofino, which is quite masculine, and I have to say I find L'Occitane Neroli to be rounder and better.

Sadly, the original Neroli was discontinued some time between 2006 and 2007 only to be replaced with a weak and wimpy scent under the same name. The new juice is considerably lighter in color (the original started orange but ages into an almost red liquid, which leads me to believe that there was a considerable amount of natural ingredients in it, even though they also added colors to the formula, as indicated on the box). The new version is inoffensive but boring and feels like a washed out relative of the beautiful Neroli.

I was hoarding what I had left in my last bottle until last summer. Occasionally I would see an eBay auction of a bottle, but the prices always were way too much than anything I'd be willing to pay. Fortunately, last year when shopping in Paris I spotted the familiar boxes at Printemps. They had a clearance sale of what looked like old L'Occitane stock. Let's just say I now have a lifetime supply.

Photos of the bottle and box by me with the help of Kosh and Giselle.

Currently

Book
The Perfect scent by Chandler Burr. Yes, I'm a year late for the party. Still a fascinating read.

Song
When Love Breaks Down by Prefab Sprout. A favorite for over twenty years.


Frequently worn outfit/item
Black Stiletto boots.

Perfume
If it's a chypre, I'm going to wear it. Jut got a bottle of Bandit in parfum concentration. Love.

Makeup
Any taupe eye shadow. I was considering putting everything else away, but then yesterday I felt like wearing navy blue and dug out a Chanel compact. So maybe I'm not ready just yet.

Food
Fresh pasta. They opened a wonderful new Whole Foods a few blocks away from my house. It has absolutely everything, including fresh pasta they cut for you in any shape you request.

Drink
Water. I'm boring.

Guilty Pleasure
Chocolate. I don't eat any other sugary thing, but chocolate is my current downfall.

Bane of my existence
My laptop is dying a slow, painful death.

Anticipation
Growing my own tomatoes.

Wishlist
Manolo Blahnik studded sandals:

What are your current favorites, banes and wishes?

art: Purple Crocus by Beth Stafford
shoe fetish: Neiman Marcus

Currently

Book
The Perfect scent by Chandler Burr. Yes, I'm a year late for the party. Still a fascinating read.

Song
When Love Breaks Down by Prefab Sprout. A favorite for over twenty years.


Frequently worn outfit/item
Black Stiletto boots.

Perfume
If it's a chypre, I'm going to wear it. Jut got a bottle of Bandit in parfum concentration. Love.

Makeup
Any taupe eye shadow. I was considering putting everything else away, but then yesterday I felt like wearing navy blue and dug out a Chanel compact. So maybe I'm not ready just yet.

Food
Fresh pasta. They opened a wonderful new Whole Foods a few blocks away from my house. It has absolutely everything, including fresh pasta they cut for you in any shape you request.

Drink
Water. I'm boring.

Guilty Pleasure
Chocolate. I don't eat any other sugary thing, but chocolate is my current downfall.

Bane of my existence
My laptop is dying a slow, painful death.

Anticipation
Growing my own tomatoes.

Wishlist
Manolo Blahnik studded sandals:

What are your current favorites, banes and wishes?

art: Purple Crocus by Beth Stafford
shoe fetish: Neiman Marcus

Currently

Book
The Perfect scent by Chandler Burr. Yes, I'm a year late for the party. Still a fascinating read.

Song
When Love Breaks Down by Prefab Sprout. A favorite for over twenty years.


Frequently worn outfit/item
Black Stiletto boots.

Perfume
If it's a chypre, I'm going to wear it. Jut got a bottle of Bandit in parfum concentration. Love.

Makeup
Any taupe eye shadow. I was considering putting everything else away, but then yesterday I felt like wearing navy blue and dug out a Chanel compact. So maybe I'm not ready just yet.

Food
Fresh pasta. They opened a wonderful new Whole Foods a few blocks away from my house. It has absolutely everything, including fresh pasta they cut for you in any shape you request.

Drink
Water. I'm boring.

Guilty Pleasure
Chocolate. I don't eat any other sugary thing, but chocolate is my current downfall.

Bane of my existence
My laptop is dying a slow, painful death.

Anticipation
Growing my own tomatoes.

Wishlist
Manolo Blahnik studded sandals:

What are your current favorites, banes and wishes?

art: Purple Crocus by Beth Stafford
shoe fetish: Neiman Marcus

Jonathan No-Frizz Hydrating Balm- Taming Of The Shrew

My biggest issue with styling products of the balm variety might have come to an end. Most leave-in conditioners, shine sprays and silicon drops that are good for the dry parts of my hair tend to make my scalp itch. On the other hand, gels and anti-frizz creams that keep things in place are fine to use near my face and hair roots, but can make everything else sticky and/or stiff.

Jonathan Product No-Frizz Hydrating Balm is a serious multitasker. It does a very decent job in the anti-frizz department even when I'm not using a styling iron. It just makes things ever so smooth, gives them a little shine while keeping the rest of the hair soft and fluffy. It opens my curls and makes them more wavy, but hair remains bouncy and not weighed down or limp.

I was happy to see that shea butter is a star player in this balm. The ingredient list has quite a few chemicals on board but also many essential oils and plant extracts to make me feel less toxic. The product is vegan and I loved the little "celebrity tested" label. It makes one think that maybe Heidi and Spencer were put into good use after all.

Jonathan Product No-Frizz Hydrating Balm ($26 for a 5.1 oz tube. It also comes in a 1.7 oz size) is available from beauty.com as well as from Sephora in store and online, which is where I bought mine.

Photograph by Charmante -Sterling, Inc, NYC

Jonathan No-Frizz Hydrating Balm- Taming Of The Shrew

My biggest issue with styling products of the balm variety might have come to an end. Most leave-in conditioners, shine sprays and silicon drops that are good for the dry parts of my hair tend to make my scalp itch. On the other hand, gels and anti-frizz creams that keep things in place are fine to use near my face and hair roots, but can make everything else sticky and/or stiff.

Jonathan Product No-Frizz Hydrating Balm is a serious multitasker. It does a very decent job in the anti-frizz department even when I'm not using a styling iron. It just makes things ever so smooth, gives them a little shine while keeping the rest of the hair soft and fluffy. It opens my curls and makes them more wavy, but hair remains bouncy and not weighed down or limp.

I was happy to see that shea butter is a star player in this balm. The ingredient list has quite a few chemicals on board but also many essential oils and plant extracts to make me feel less toxic. The product is vegan and I loved the little "celebrity tested" label. It makes one think that maybe Heidi and Spencer were put into good use after all.

Jonathan Product No-Frizz Hydrating Balm ($26 for a 5.1 oz tube. It also comes in a 1.7 oz size) is available from beauty.com as well as from Sephora in store and online, which is where I bought mine.

Photograph by Charmante -Sterling, Inc, NYC

Jonathan No-Frizz Hydrating Balm- Taming Of The Shrew

My biggest issue with styling products of the balm variety might have come to an end. Most leave-in conditioners, shine sprays and silicon drops that are good for the dry parts of my hair tend to make my scalp itch. On the other hand, gels and anti-frizz creams that keep things in place are fine to use near my face and hair roots, but can make everything else sticky and/or stiff.

Jonathan Product No-Frizz Hydrating Balm is a serious multitasker. It does a very decent job in the anti-frizz department even when I'm not using a styling iron. It just makes things ever so smooth, gives them a little shine while keeping the rest of the hair soft and fluffy. It opens my curls and makes them more wavy, but hair remains bouncy and not weighed down or limp.

I was happy to see that shea butter is a star player in this balm. The ingredient list has quite a few chemicals on board but also many essential oils and plant extracts to make me feel less toxic. The product is vegan and I loved the little "celebrity tested" label. It makes one think that maybe Heidi and Spencer were put into good use after all.

Jonathan Product No-Frizz Hydrating Balm ($26 for a 5.1 oz tube. It also comes in a 1.7 oz size) is available from beauty.com as well as from Sephora in store and online, which is where I bought mine.

Photograph by Charmante -Sterling, Inc, NYC

Chanel No. 19

In one of the most memorable reviews from Perfumes- The Guide, Tania Sanchez defined No. 19 "...this extraordinary perfume appeals to any woman who has ever wished to know what it is to be heartless". While I definitely know what Sanchez is talking about, I'm not quite sure Chanel No. 19 really takes me there, despite the effort to put my heart aside. If I had to assign a scent to this state of mind, I'd go with Bandit. No. 19's flowers, while cold and uppity at times, are also melancholy, serene and have learned a thing or two about life.

The EDT version has never agreed with me. Too many jagged edges that don't go with my skin. There's something hollow there, and the green notes just fall apart, which is a shame. I hear that on just about anyone else it's a thing of beauty. I wear the EDP, which is rounder and sweeter, while still retaining a certain sparkle and crispiness. While there's something about it that speaks of spring, I love it on the coldest days when it feels like a wind chime in the distance.


The parfum (I have a not so new but not quite vintage bottle) is dry, and while not as leathery as the No. 19 of yore was rumored to be, the oakmoss is unmistakable and the strong bones of a chypre are evident. But more than anything, and what makes this scent special and melancholy to me is the large amounts of powdery orris. It's dusky, it broods, it has a past and quite a bit of baggage, which is probably why someone on Basenotes recommended it for middle-aged women (is "middle aged" the new "old lady"?).

Considering the big bad chypres I used to wear in my early twenties, I can't take that comment too seriously. All I know is that on certain days there's nothing that suits me more than No. 19. whatever it might say about the state of my heart.

Chanel No. 19 in EDT is available from department stores and Chanel boutiques. The other formulations I reviewed here are more elusive.

Art: Rojo Sillion III by Fabian Perez from Vinings Gallery

Chanel No. 19

In one of the most memorable reviews from Perfumes- The Guide, Tania Sanchez defined No. 19 "...this extraordinary perfume appeals to any woman who has ever wished to know what it is to be heartless". While I definitely know what Sanchez is talking about, I'm not quite sure Chanel No. 19 really takes me there, despite the effort to put my heart aside. If I had to assign a scent to this state of mind, I'd go with Bandit. No. 19's flowers, while cold and uppity at times, are also melancholy, serene and have learned a thing or two about life.

The EDT version has never agreed with me. Too many jagged edges that don't go with my skin. There's something hollow there, and the green notes just fall apart, which is a shame. I hear that on just about anyone else it's a thing of beauty. I wear the EDP, which is rounder and sweeter, while still retaining a certain sparkle and crispiness. While there's something about it that speaks of spring, I love it on the coldest days when it feels like a wind chime in the distance.


The parfum (I have a not so new but not quite vintage bottle) is dry, and while not as leathery as the No. 19 of yore was rumored to be, the oakmoss is unmistakable and the strong bones of a chypre are evident. But more than anything, and what makes this scent special and melancholy to me is the large amounts of powdery orris. It's dusky, it broods, it has a past and quite a bit of baggage, which is probably why someone on Basenotes recommended it for middle-aged women (is "middle aged" the new "old lady"?).

Considering the big bad chypres I used to wear in my early twenties, I can't take that comment too seriously. All I know is that on certain days there's nothing that suits me more than No. 19. whatever it might say about the state of my heart.

Chanel No. 19 in EDT is available from department stores and Chanel boutiques. The other formulations I reviewed here are more elusive.

Art: Rojo Sillion III by Fabian Perez from Vinings Gallery