Parfumerie Generale Felanilla

One of the most frequent complains you hear from hard core perfume lovers is the about the lack of character in so many modern perfumes. We kvetch and krechtz about celebrity scents, focus groups gathered from food court patrons at Utah malls, ridiculous IFRA regulations and the evil of LVMH. It's sort of like comparing today's Young Hollywood to the golden age. Neither the Kardashian Sisters nor the thin and pale Twilight star possess even an ounce of real glamor. Brad and Angelina might come close, but let's face it- they are not Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton.

While it's most likely that nothing can save Nicole Kidman's face, when it comes to perfume I can actually find a glimmer of hope here and there. Some perfumers are still making scents that have a real curvy body, depth and character. Pierre Guillaume, owner and creator of Parfumerie Generale, is one of them.

Felanilla would easily appeal to fans of vintage Shalimar and Magie Noire. While the list of notes as it appears on Luckyscent doesn't say a word about animalics, I could have sworn there's something decidedly civet-like in Felanilla's depths, and not just because of the perfume's name. It starts with a lovely and creamy wood note, something that Guillaume is an expert in weaving. But it's not a modern, cedar-Iso E Super kind of wood. Instead there's sap, bark and layers upon layers of sweet-smelling material that smoothly morphs into incense (another note missing from the list, but it's there on my skin). The vanilla part is there almost from the start, but no matter how rich it is, Felanilla is not a gourmand. I want to bury my nose in it, but not really eat it (which is a very good thing. Licking your own arm or cleavage is not looked upon kindly).

The drydown lasts forever and smells velvety and warm. It's seductive but not vulgar, and despite the animalic, almost fur-like feel (as in fur on a purring live animal) there's no skank in Felanilla. It keeps the sexy lingerie facet under a soft cashmere robe. Modesty is more or less intact, but you're still not wearing any real clothes.

Bottom line: Let's see- felines and vanilla- Mr. Guillaume could have just named it "Gaia".

I've been living on a large decant lately which is quickly being drained. A full bottle is my very near future. Felanilla is sold at Luckyscent ($115, 50 ml) and the Perfume Shoppe in Canada. Someone really needs to bring the line to NYC. Samples and decants are available from The Perfumed Court.

Photos of Ava Gardner: stirredstraightup.blogspot.com

Parfumerie Generale Felanilla

One of the most frequent complains you hear from hard core perfume lovers is the about the lack of character in so many modern perfumes. We kvetch and krechtz about celebrity scents, focus groups gathered from food court patrons at Utah malls, ridiculous IFRA regulations and the evil of LVMH. It's sort of like comparing today's Young Hollywood to the golden age. Neither the Kardashian Sisters nor the thin and pale Twilight star possess even an ounce of real glamor. Brad and Angelina might come close, but let's face it- they are not Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton.

While it's most likely that nothing can save Nicole Kidman's face, when it comes to perfume I can actually find a glimmer of hope here and there. Some perfumers are still making scents that have a real curvy body, depth and character. Pierre Guillaume, owner and creator of Parfumerie Generale, is one of them.

Felanilla would easily appeal to fans of vintage Shalimar and Magie Noire. While the list of notes as it appears on Luckyscent doesn't say a word about animalics, I could have sworn there's something decidedly civet-like in Felanilla's depths, and not just because of the perfume's name. It starts with a lovely and creamy wood note, something that Guillaume is an expert in weaving. But it's not a modern, cedar-Iso E Super kind of wood. Instead there's sap, bark and layers upon layers of sweet-smelling material that smoothly morphs into incense (another note missing from the list, but it's there on my skin). The vanilla part is there almost from the start, but no matter how rich it is, Felanilla is not a gourmand. I want to bury my nose in it, but not really eat it (which is a very good thing. Licking your own arm or cleavage is not looked upon kindly).

The drydown lasts forever and smells velvety and warm. It's seductive but not vulgar, and despite the animalic, almost fur-like feel (as in fur on a purring live animal) there's no skank in Felanilla. It keeps the sexy lingerie facet under a soft cashmere robe. Modesty is more or less intact, but you're still not wearing any real clothes.

Bottom line: Let's see- felines and vanilla- Mr. Guillaume could have just named it "Gaia".

I've been living on a large decant lately which is quickly being drained. A full bottle is my very near future. Felanilla is sold at Luckyscent ($115, 50 ml) and the Perfume Shoppe in Canada. Someone really needs to bring the line to NYC. Samples and decants are available from The Perfumed Court.

Photos of Ava Gardner: stirredstraightup.blogspot.com

Parfumerie Generale Felanilla

One of the most frequent complains you hear from hard core perfume lovers is the about the lack of character in so many modern perfumes. We kvetch and krechtz about celebrity scents, focus groups gathered from food court patrons at Utah malls, ridiculous IFRA regulations and the evil of LVMH. It's sort of like comparing today's Young Hollywood to the golden age. Neither the Kardashian Sisters nor the thin and pale Twilight star possess even an ounce of real glamor. Brad and Angelina might come close, but let's face it- they are not Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton.

While it's most likely that nothing can save Nicole Kidman's face, when it comes to perfume I can actually find a glimmer of hope here and there. Some perfumers are still making scents that have a real curvy body, depth and character. Pierre Guillaume, owner and creator of Parfumerie Generale, is one of them.

Felanilla would easily appeal to fans of vintage Shalimar and Magie Noire. While the list of notes as it appears on Luckyscent doesn't say a word about animalics, I could have sworn there's something decidedly civet-like in Felanilla's depths, and not just because of the perfume's name. It starts with a lovely and creamy wood note, something that Guillaume is an expert in weaving. But it's not a modern, cedar-Iso E Super kind of wood. Instead there's sap, bark and layers upon layers of sweet-smelling material that smoothly morphs into incense (another note missing from the list, but it's there on my skin). The vanilla part is there almost from the start, but no matter how rich it is, Felanilla is not a gourmand. I want to bury my nose in it, but not really eat it (which is a very good thing. Licking your own arm or cleavage is not looked upon kindly).

The drydown lasts forever and smells velvety and warm. It's seductive but not vulgar, and despite the animalic, almost fur-like feel (as in fur on a purring live animal) there's no skank in Felanilla. It keeps the sexy lingerie facet under a soft cashmere robe. Modesty is more or less intact, but you're still not wearing any real clothes.

Bottom line: Let's see- felines and vanilla- Mr. Guillaume could have just named it "Gaia".

I've been living on a large decant lately which is quickly being drained. A full bottle is my very near future. Felanilla is sold at Luckyscent ($115, 50 ml) and the Perfume Shoppe in Canada. Someone really needs to bring the line to NYC. Samples and decants are available from The Perfumed Court.

Photos of Ava Gardner: stirredstraightup.blogspot.com

Cuir d'Iris -Parfumerie Generale Private Collection

Pierre Guillaume, the name, nose (not to mention the face) behind Parfumerie Generale wasn't reinventing the wheel when he paired leather and iris, but he sure did it extremely well. Cuir d'Iris feels more civilized and muzzled than many other black leather perfumes (I'm thinking about Bandit, Rien, Lonestar Memories, Cuir Mauresque, Tuscan Leather and Montale's Oud Cuir d'Arabie, just to name a few). It doesn't have the wonderful weirdness of other iris-leather combination, such as Cuir Ottoman by Parfum d'Empire (let's wear the new leather couch) or Serge Lutens' Daim Blond (suede jacket saturated in apricot jam). Instead, Cuir d'Iris is an amazingly wearable, friendly soft leather with a hint of powder at the beginning and one of the smoothest drydowns imaginable.

Cuir d'Iris is neither a masculine scent nor feminine. It's just... is. Waiting to be worn and merged with one's own skin, offering a touch of woody incense, dry but not rigid or austere. It's more romantic than sensual, in my opinion, and would make a great shared scent. There's a powdery amber undertone that keeps things warm and inviting, and why I suspect it'd be a good starting point for those who are usually afraid of the whips and dungeons and wild animals hidden in many leather scents.

Cuir d'Iris ($135 for 50 ml) is part of Parfumerie Generale's Private Collection. It's available from Luckyscent/Scent Bar in Los Angeles, but cannot be purchased online- only by phone or email. If you go to Parfumerie Generale's website you'd need a user name and password to access the Private Collection area (seriously. A password. Uncle Serge is kicking himself for not thinking of it first). Samples and decants are available from the Perfumed Court, which is where I order my fix.

Photo of Rudolph Valentino and wife Natasha Rambova from Ana_Lee on LiveJournal.

Cuir d'Iris -Parfumerie Generale Private Collection

Pierre Guillaume, the name, nose (not to mention the face) behind Parfumerie Generale wasn't reinventing the wheel when he paired leather and iris, but he sure did it extremely well. Cuir d'Iris feels more civilized and muzzled than many other black leather perfumes (I'm thinking about Bandit, Rien, Lonestar Memories, Cuir Mauresque, Tuscan Leather and Montale's Oud Cuir d'Arabie, just to name a few). It doesn't have the wonderful weirdness of other iris-leather combination, such as Cuir Ottoman by Parfum d'Empire (let's wear the new leather couch) or Serge Lutens' Daim Blond (suede jacket saturated in apricot jam). Instead, Cuir d'Iris is an amazingly wearable, friendly soft leather with a hint of powder at the beginning and one of the smoothest drydowns imaginable.

Cuir d'Iris is neither a masculine scent nor feminine. It's just... is. Waiting to be worn and merged with one's own skin, offering a touch of woody incense, dry but not rigid or austere. It's more romantic than sensual, in my opinion, and would make a great shared scent. There's a powdery amber undertone that keeps things warm and inviting, and why I suspect it'd be a good starting point for those who are usually afraid of the whips and dungeons and wild animals hidden in many leather scents.

Cuir d'Iris ($135 for 50 ml) is part of Parfumerie Generale's Private Collection. It's available from Luckyscent/Scent Bar in Los Angeles, but cannot be purchased online- only by phone or email. If you go to Parfumerie Generale's website you'd need a user name and password to access the Private Collection area (seriously. A password. Uncle Serge is kicking himself for not thinking of it first). Samples and decants are available from the Perfumed Court, which is where I order my fix.

Photo of Rudolph Valentino and wife Natasha Rambova from Ana_Lee on LiveJournal.

Cuir d'Iris -Parfumerie Generale Private Collection

Pierre Guillaume, the name, nose (not to mention the face) behind Parfumerie Generale wasn't reinventing the wheel when he paired leather and iris, but he sure did it extremely well. Cuir d'Iris feels more civilized and muzzled than many other black leather perfumes (I'm thinking about Bandit, Rien, Lonestar Memories, Cuir Mauresque, Tuscan Leather and Montale's Oud Cuir d'Arabie, just to name a few). It doesn't have the wonderful weirdness of other iris-leather combination, such as Cuir Ottoman by Parfum d'Empire (let's wear the new leather couch) or Serge Lutens' Daim Blond (suede jacket saturated in apricot jam). Instead, Cuir d'Iris is an amazingly wearable, friendly soft leather with a hint of powder at the beginning and one of the smoothest drydowns imaginable.

Cuir d'Iris is neither a masculine scent nor feminine. It's just... is. Waiting to be worn and merged with one's own skin, offering a touch of woody incense, dry but not rigid or austere. It's more romantic than sensual, in my opinion, and would make a great shared scent. There's a powdery amber undertone that keeps things warm and inviting, and why I suspect it'd be a good starting point for those who are usually afraid of the whips and dungeons and wild animals hidden in many leather scents.

Cuir d'Iris ($135 for 50 ml) is part of Parfumerie Generale's Private Collection. It's available from Luckyscent/Scent Bar in Los Angeles, but cannot be purchased online- only by phone or email. If you go to Parfumerie Generale's website you'd need a user name and password to access the Private Collection area (seriously. A password. Uncle Serge is kicking himself for not thinking of it first). Samples and decants are available from the Perfumed Court, which is where I order my fix.

Photo of Rudolph Valentino and wife Natasha Rambova from Ana_Lee on LiveJournal.

Top Ten Summer Perfumes

Can there be a list of summer perfume recommendation without boring myself silly and/or mentioning Eau d'Hadrien? I'm going to try. Some of these are new(ish), others are perennial favorites. In no particular order:

1. Reverie au Jardin- Tauer
Midsummer afternoon dream. Will transport you to a magical alpine garden.

2. Amethyst- Olivier Durbano
Slightly sweetened pencil shavings, clean incense and a touch of vanilla. Surprisingly refreshing in the heat.

3. Un Matin d'Orage- Annick Goutal
Green gardenias drenched in rain without an ounce of sweetness until the musky drydown.

4. Monyette Paris *
The other side of gardenia. Tropical, sweet with a touch of nag champa incense. Put a flower in your hair and go dancing on the beach.
*I think it's the first fragrance review I've written here. It's magnificently bad, but kind of nostalgic in a campy way.

5. Nuit de Cellophane- Serge Lutens
Osmanthus flowers with a hint of apricot. Like drinking iced peach tea on a beautiful Cape May porch.

6. Italian Cypress- Tom Ford
Is it an homage to Eau d'Hadrien (so I lied. It had to be mentioned)? Maybe. But the cypress is a darker green and the feeling is more pulled together.

7. Encre Noire- Lalique
Or any other vetiver, really. I've chosen this one because it's a bit softer while still dry and grassy.

8. (Vintage) Vivara-Pucci
I'm talking about the original 60s formula. A salty chypre that belongs with the jet set in San Tropez. White pants, a Pucci scarf and oversized sunglasses are essential.

9. Bois Blond- Parfumerie Generale
A roll in dry hay on a lazy Sunday afternoon. You can smell the earth and trees baking in the sun.

10. Figuier- Heeley
Like lying in the shade of a huge, old fig tree next to a running stream.

What are your summer favorites this year?

art: Embarkation by Dan Dahlke

Top Ten Summer Perfumes

Can there be a list of summer perfume recommendation without boring myself silly and/or mentioning Eau d'Hadrien? I'm going to try. Some of these are new(ish), others are perennial favorites. In no particular order:

1. Reverie au Jardin- Tauer
Midsummer afternoon dream. Will transport you to a magical alpine garden.

2. Amethyst- Olivier Durbano
Slightly sweetened pencil shavings, clean incense and a touch of vanilla. Surprisingly refreshing in the heat.

3. Un Matin d'Orage- Annick Goutal
Green gardenias drenched in rain without an ounce of sweetness until the musky drydown.

4. Monyette Paris *
The other side of gardenia. Tropical, sweet with a touch of nag champa incense. Put a flower in your hair and go dancing on the beach.
*I think it's the first fragrance review I've written here. It's magnificently bad, but kind of nostalgic in a campy way.

5. Nuit de Cellophane- Serge Lutens
Osmanthus flowers with a hint of apricot. Like drinking iced peach tea on a beautiful Cape May porch.

6. Italian Cypress- Tom Ford
Is it an homage to Eau d'Hadrien (so I lied. It had to be mentioned)? Maybe. But the cypress is a darker green and the feeling is more pulled together.

7. Encre Noire- Lalique
Or any other vetiver, really. I've chosen this one because it's a bit softer while still dry and grassy.

8. (Vintage) Vivara-Pucci
I'm talking about the original 60s formula. A salty chypre that belongs with the jet set in San Tropez. White pants, a Pucci scarf and oversized sunglasses are essential.

9. Bois Blond- Parfumerie Generale
A roll in dry hay on a lazy Sunday afternoon. You can smell the earth and trees baking in the sun.

10. Figuier- Heeley
Like lying in the shade of a huge, old fig tree next to a running stream.

What are your summer favorites this year?

art: Embarkation by Dan Dahlke

Top Ten Summer Perfumes

Can there be a list of summer perfume recommendation without boring myself silly and/or mentioning Eau d'Hadrien? I'm going to try. Some of these are new(ish), others are perennial favorites. In no particular order:

1. Reverie au Jardin- Tauer
Midsummer afternoon dream. Will transport you to a magical alpine garden.

2. Amethyst- Olivier Durbano
Slightly sweetened pencil shavings, clean incense and a touch of vanilla. Surprisingly refreshing in the heat.

3. Un Matin d'Orage- Annick Goutal
Green gardenias drenched in rain without an ounce of sweetness until the musky drydown.

4. Monyette Paris *
The other side of gardenia. Tropical, sweet with a touch of nag champa incense. Put a flower in your hair and go dancing on the beach.
*I think it's the first fragrance review I've written here. It's magnificently bad, but kind of nostalgic in a campy way.

5. Nuit de Cellophane- Serge Lutens
Osmanthus flowers with a hint of apricot. Like drinking iced peach tea on a beautiful Cape May porch.

6. Italian Cypress- Tom Ford
Is it an homage to Eau d'Hadrien (so I lied. It had to be mentioned)? Maybe. But the cypress is a darker green and the feeling is more pulled together.

7. Encre Noire- Lalique
Or any other vetiver, really. I've chosen this one because it's a bit softer while still dry and grassy.

8. (Vintage) Vivara-Pucci
I'm talking about the original 60s formula. A salty chypre that belongs with the jet set in San Tropez. White pants, a Pucci scarf and oversized sunglasses are essential.

9. Bois Blond- Parfumerie Generale
A roll in dry hay on a lazy Sunday afternoon. You can smell the earth and trees baking in the sun.

10. Figuier- Heeley
Like lying in the shade of a huge, old fig tree next to a running stream.

What are your summer favorites this year?

art: Embarkation by Dan Dahlke

The Bold and the Beautiful- Parfumerie Generale Corps et Ames & Querelle

This is probably the worst post title ever. I just can't think of anything more fitting. We'll just have to let go of over made-up actresses with frosted hair and storyline in which they discover they have married the son of their mother's first husband who disappeared under questionable circumstances.

Back to drama in a bottle.

Who's afraid of big bad chypres? Not me, considering that I wore Paloma Picasso at 19, Eau du Soir at 20 and the original Sonia Rykiel at 22. I have no idea how I pulled it off back then or why I stopped. The answer to the latter part is probably the decline and almost disappearance of these type of scents. It's not that I spent my late 20s or early 30s wearing fruity-florals, but like the majority, I turned to more elevator-friendly perfumes.

Corps et Ames by Parfumerie Generale smells like something from a world long gone. Dramatic, I know. It's meant to be. It's a dark and mysterious scent, very Greta Garbo. Not overly feminine and definitely not girly. It's a black dress and vintage compact scent, but a man could wear this immortelle and sandalwood blend just as easily, as long as he's not afraid of big scents.

There's supposed to be some leather in there, but I'm not getting any. The drydown is a lot softer than I'd expect. It leaves the drama behind and becomes mellow and very pleasant. I'm not sure I need this in my permanent wardrobe, but it's a nice fantasy of a scent: "What to wear if I'm playing Mata Hari?"

In comparison, Querelle is a lot more subtle. It doesn't lack in drama with notes like myrrh, vetiver and incense (those are the three that are most dominant on my skin, but there's a lot more in there), but the citrus which stays there beyond the top notes, is keeping the perfume in check. To my nose, it's one of the most beautiful incense scents I know, and causes that uncontrollable wrist-to-nose action, until late in the drydown, when all of a sudden I find myself wearing an almost ordinary citrus-woods fragrance. Not bad and not really boring, because it's very nice, but compared to all the loveliness that preceded, it's no longer as exciting.


(photo of Greta Garbo from SKJ Studio)

The Bold and the Beautiful- Parfumerie Generale Corps et Ames & Querelle

This is probably the worst post title ever. I just can't think of anything more fitting. We'll just have to let go of over made-up actresses with frosted hair and storyline in which they discover they have married the son of their mother's first husband who disappeared under questionable circumstances.

Back to drama in a bottle.

Who's afraid of big bad chypres? Not me, considering that I wore Paloma Picasso at 19, Eau du Soir at 20 and the original Sonia Rykiel at 22. I have no idea how I pulled it off back then or why I stopped. The answer to the latter part is probably the decline and almost disappearance of these type of scents. It's not that I spent my late 20s or early 30s wearing fruity-florals, but like the majority, I turned to more elevator-friendly perfumes.

Corps et Ames by Parfumerie Generale smells like something from a world long gone. Dramatic, I know. It's meant to be. It's a dark and mysterious scent, very Greta Garbo. Not overly feminine and definitely not girly. It's a black dress and vintage compact scent, but a man could wear this immortelle and sandalwood blend just as easily, as long as he's not afraid of big scents.

There's supposed to be some leather in there, but I'm not getting any. The drydown is a lot softer than I'd expect. It leaves the drama behind and becomes mellow and very pleasant. I'm not sure I need this in my permanent wardrobe, but it's a nice fantasy of a scent: "What to wear if I'm playing Mata Hari?"

In comparison, Querelle is a lot more subtle. It doesn't lack in drama with notes like myrrh, vetiver and incense (those are the three that are most dominant on my skin, but there's a lot more in there), but the citrus which stays there beyond the top notes, is keeping the perfume in check. To my nose, it's one of the most beautiful incense scents I know, and causes that uncontrollable wrist-to-nose action, until late in the drydown, when all of a sudden I find myself wearing an almost ordinary citrus-woods fragrance. Not bad and not really boring, because it's very nice, but compared to all the loveliness that preceded, it's no longer as exciting.


(photo of Greta Garbo from SKJ Studio)

The Bold and the Beautiful- Parfumerie Generale Corps et Ames & Querelle

This is probably the worst post title ever. I just can't think of anything more fitting. We'll just have to let go of over made-up actresses with frosted hair and storyline in which they discover they have married the son of their mother's first husband who disappeared under questionable circumstances.

Back to drama in a bottle.

Who's afraid of big bad chypres? Not me, considering that I wore Paloma Picasso at 19, Eau du Soir at 20 and the original Sonia Rykiel at 22. I have no idea how I pulled it off back then or why I stopped. The answer to the latter part is probably the decline and almost disappearance of these type of scents. It's not that I spent my late 20s or early 30s wearing fruity-florals, but like the majority, I turned to more elevator-friendly perfumes.

Corps et Ames by Parfumerie Generale smells like something from a world long gone. Dramatic, I know. It's meant to be. It's a dark and mysterious scent, very Greta Garbo. Not overly feminine and definitely not girly. It's a black dress and vintage compact scent, but a man could wear this immortelle and sandalwood blend just as easily, as long as he's not afraid of big scents.

There's supposed to be some leather in there, but I'm not getting any. The drydown is a lot softer than I'd expect. It leaves the drama behind and becomes mellow and very pleasant. I'm not sure I need this in my permanent wardrobe, but it's a nice fantasy of a scent: "What to wear if I'm playing Mata Hari?"

In comparison, Querelle is a lot more subtle. It doesn't lack in drama with notes like myrrh, vetiver and incense (those are the three that are most dominant on my skin, but there's a lot more in there), but the citrus which stays there beyond the top notes, is keeping the perfume in check. To my nose, it's one of the most beautiful incense scents I know, and causes that uncontrollable wrist-to-nose action, until late in the drydown, when all of a sudden I find myself wearing an almost ordinary citrus-woods fragrance. Not bad and not really boring, because it's very nice, but compared to all the loveliness that preceded, it's no longer as exciting.


(photo of Greta Garbo from SKJ Studio)

Heartbreaker- Parfumerie Generale Jardin de Kerylos

Heeley's Figuier was supposed to be my ultimate fig perfume. I absolutely love it, as proven by both my frequent use of the full bottle I bought and the fact that I no longer hold a grudge for the awfulness of his Spirit of the Tiger.

Enter Parfumerie Generale's Jardin de Kerylos.

Villa Kerylos on the French Riviera was built in the style of ancient Greece. Here's what the official site says about the garden:

From the garden around the villa there are fine views of the Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat peninsula, dotted with magnificent mansions. The garden contains a pleasing mixture of typically Greek plants : olive trees and vines, pomegranate and carob trees, acanthus and myrtle, oleanders and irises, pine and cypress trees, palm trees and papyrus all help create a Grecian look and feel in the lovely Mediterranean sunshine.

You'd notice that they don't mention figs, neither sycamore, that are the official notes in JdK. Then again, I'm not really sure what a sycamore note should smell like.

To my nose, there are two elements in this scent, both are present throughout its wear: fig and a delicate, elegant white floral, that keeps it from going too dry and too green. It shares the beauty you can see in the villa's photos and makes you think about these far away places that unless you're one of the lucky few, you only get to briefly visit, then you spend your entire life missing them.

The drydown is supposed to be musky, but I suspect that it's the kind of musk to which I'm completely anosmic. What I smell is just a quiet, dark green fig tree with a whiff of those same flowers, coming from a distance.

This fragrance is heartbreakingly beautiful. Pierre Guillaume, this line's creator, is fast becoming one of my favorite artists.

Heartbreaker- Parfumerie Generale Jardin de Kerylos

Heeley's Figuier was supposed to be my ultimate fig perfume. I absolutely love it, as proven by both my frequent use of the full bottle I bought and the fact that I no longer hold a grudge for the awfulness of his Spirit of the Tiger.

Enter Parfumerie Generale's Jardin de Kerylos.

Villa Kerylos on the French Riviera was built in the style of ancient Greece. Here's what the official site says about the garden:

From the garden around the villa there are fine views of the Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat peninsula, dotted with magnificent mansions. The garden contains a pleasing mixture of typically Greek plants : olive trees and vines, pomegranate and carob trees, acanthus and myrtle, oleanders and irises, pine and cypress trees, palm trees and papyrus all help create a Grecian look and feel in the lovely Mediterranean sunshine.

You'd notice that they don't mention figs, neither sycamore, that are the official notes in JdK. Then again, I'm not really sure what a sycamore note should smell like.

To my nose, there are two elements in this scent, both are present throughout its wear: fig and a delicate, elegant white floral, that keeps it from going too dry and too green. It shares the beauty you can see in the villa's photos and makes you think about these far away places that unless you're one of the lucky few, you only get to briefly visit, then you spend your entire life missing them.

The drydown is supposed to be musky, but I suspect that it's the kind of musk to which I'm completely anosmic. What I smell is just a quiet, dark green fig tree with a whiff of those same flowers, coming from a distance.

This fragrance is heartbreakingly beautiful. Pierre Guillaume, this line's creator, is fast becoming one of my favorite artists.

Heartbreaker- Parfumerie Generale Jardin de Kerylos

Heeley's Figuier was supposed to be my ultimate fig perfume. I absolutely love it, as proven by both my frequent use of the full bottle I bought and the fact that I no longer hold a grudge for the awfulness of his Spirit of the Tiger.

Enter Parfumerie Generale's Jardin de Kerylos.

Villa Kerylos on the French Riviera was built in the style of ancient Greece. Here's what the official site says about the garden:

From the garden around the villa there are fine views of the Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat peninsula, dotted with magnificent mansions. The garden contains a pleasing mixture of typically Greek plants : olive trees and vines, pomegranate and carob trees, acanthus and myrtle, oleanders and irises, pine and cypress trees, palm trees and papyrus all help create a Grecian look and feel in the lovely Mediterranean sunshine.

You'd notice that they don't mention figs, neither sycamore, that are the official notes in JdK. Then again, I'm not really sure what a sycamore note should smell like.

To my nose, there are two elements in this scent, both are present throughout its wear: fig and a delicate, elegant white floral, that keeps it from going too dry and too green. It shares the beauty you can see in the villa's photos and makes you think about these far away places that unless you're one of the lucky few, you only get to briefly visit, then you spend your entire life missing them.

The drydown is supposed to be musky, but I suspect that it's the kind of musk to which I'm completely anosmic. What I smell is just a quiet, dark green fig tree with a whiff of those same flowers, coming from a distance.

This fragrance is heartbreakingly beautiful. Pierre Guillaume, this line's creator, is fast becoming one of my favorite artists.

You had me at "Bois"- Parfumerie Generale Bois de Copaiba

It's probably not the right season for a rich, woody fragrance, but I really don't care. I'm mildly obsessed with Parfumerie Generale's scents. They have a Lutenic quality to them, being as intriguing and full of little surprises as they are beautiful, sometimes heartbreakingly so.

Bois de Copaiba from their private collection is a celebration of rich woods, tinged with spice. It eases into one's presence with a sweet citrusy opening of crystallized orange pulp. There are many scents lately that start with candied orange, but this is different. It's rich, spicy and doesn't even remotely resemble a teen perfume.

My guess is that anyone who likes Donna Karan's Black Cashmere would enjoy this one. They are of the same family, though Copaiba is smoother, softer and not as dark. Both are sexy in a luxurious, elegant way. I wear Black Cashmere year round, though only at night these days. Bois de Copaiba is even wearable on summer days. At least, if you are me and your body chemistry is very sandalwood-friendly.

You had me at "Bois"- Parfumerie Generale Bois de Copaiba

It's probably not the right season for a rich, woody fragrance, but I really don't care. I'm mildly obsessed with Parfumerie Generale's scents. They have a Lutenic quality to them, being as intriguing and full of little surprises as they are beautiful, sometimes heartbreakingly so.

Bois de Copaiba from their private collection is a celebration of rich woods, tinged with spice. It eases into one's presence with a sweet citrusy opening of crystallized orange pulp. There are many scents lately that start with candied orange, but this is different. It's rich, spicy and doesn't even remotely resemble a teen perfume.

My guess is that anyone who likes Donna Karan's Black Cashmere would enjoy this one. They are of the same family, though Copaiba is smoother, softer and not as dark. Both are sexy in a luxurious, elegant way. I wear Black Cashmere year round, though only at night these days. Bois de Copaiba is even wearable on summer days. At least, if you are me and your body chemistry is very sandalwood-friendly.

You had me at "Bois"- Parfumerie Generale Bois de Copaiba

It's probably not the right season for a rich, woody fragrance, but I really don't care. I'm mildly obsessed with Parfumerie Generale's scents. They have a Lutenic quality to them, being as intriguing and full of little surprises as they are beautiful, sometimes heartbreakingly so.

Bois de Copaiba from their private collection is a celebration of rich woods, tinged with spice. It eases into one's presence with a sweet citrusy opening of crystallized orange pulp. There are many scents lately that start with candied orange, but this is different. It's rich, spicy and doesn't even remotely resemble a teen perfume.

My guess is that anyone who likes Donna Karan's Black Cashmere would enjoy this one. They are of the same family, though Copaiba is smoother, softer and not as dark. Both are sexy in a luxurious, elegant way. I wear Black Cashmere year round, though only at night these days. Bois de Copaiba is even wearable on summer days. At least, if you are me and your body chemistry is very sandalwood-friendly.

Tubereuse Couture Parfumerie Generale

I think that I found my tuberose.

This is a serious matter. Regular readers of this blog were exposed to my lack of enthusiasm for white florals in generals (yes, they're florals! they're white! they're pretty! I prefer my pretty clouded in a little mystery, darkness and with a side of wood and leather. And, if possible, I want Andy Tauer to make it), and for tuberose in particular (other than Michael Kors, they all smell like my mother, which is a good thing if you are my mother, not so much if you're me).

Tubereuse Couture by Parfumerie Generale is different. It doesn't smell even remotely related to the big diva, Fracas. The opening, with its strong ylang-ylang note is a wonderful of example of how this line combines notes in an unexpected way, to make interesting, slightly twisted scents. I love the herbal-medicinal quality that mixes with the floral top notes. It keeps you guessing (in a similar fashion to the ylang in Tom Ford's Black Orchid, where it takes the fruit and flowers and keep them on the dark side).

The green jasmine is a natural development. It keeps the scent fresh and alive, and the mix reminds me of some of my favorite fig scents, where the green leaf balances the fruit. The official notes don't say anything about either fig or coconut, but to my nose, the heart notes have a hint of that.

Neither the ylang-ylang nor the tuberose ever leave the scene. They are there, they do their dangerous dance throughout the perfume's development. The tuberose isn't heady as much as it's striking, and, yes, there's a difference. Heady is what kills your fellow elevator passengers. Striking is what makes you fall in love and want to marry your own wrist.

Tubereuse Couture is as sexy as it is elegant. The Luckyscent description calls it "very refined". I agree with this assessment. It's not for everyone, but which tuberose scent is?

Tubereuse Couture Parfumerie Generale

I think that I found my tuberose.

This is a serious matter. Regular readers of this blog were exposed to my lack of enthusiasm for white florals in generals (yes, they're florals! they're white! they're pretty! I prefer my pretty clouded in a little mystery, darkness and with a side of wood and leather. And, if possible, I want Andy Tauer to make it), and for tuberose in particular (other than Michael Kors, they all smell like my mother, which is a good thing if you are my mother, not so much if you're me).

Tubereuse Couture by Parfumerie Generale is different. It doesn't smell even remotely related to the big diva, Fracas. The opening, with its strong ylang-ylang note is a wonderful of example of how this line combines notes in an unexpected way, to make interesting, slightly twisted scents. I love the herbal-medicinal quality that mixes with the floral top notes. It keeps you guessing (in a similar fashion to the ylang in Tom Ford's Black Orchid, where it takes the fruit and flowers and keep them on the dark side).

The green jasmine is a natural development. It keeps the scent fresh and alive, and the mix reminds me of some of my favorite fig scents, where the green leaf balances the fruit. The official notes don't say anything about either fig or coconut, but to my nose, the heart notes have a hint of that.

Neither the ylang-ylang nor the tuberose ever leave the scene. They are there, they do their dangerous dance throughout the perfume's development. The tuberose isn't heady as much as it's striking, and, yes, there's a difference. Heady is what kills your fellow elevator passengers. Striking is what makes you fall in love and want to marry your own wrist.

Tubereuse Couture is as sexy as it is elegant. The Luckyscent description calls it "very refined". I agree with this assessment. It's not for everyone, but which tuberose scent is?